LC 

SO// 


IC-NRLF 


17    7fi3 


I 


I) 


Ctlrrarp  nf 


GIFT   OF 
Benjamin  Ide   Wheeler 


GREEK    AND    WHAT    NEXT  ? 

AN  ADDRESS. 


SOLOMOS'  HYMN  TO  LIBERTY, 

A  POEM. 


READ   BEFORE  THE 

ALUMNI  ASSOCIATION  OF  BROWN  UNIVERSITY, 

JUNE  17,  1884, 
ARNOLD  GREEN. 


PROVIDENCE 
SIDNEY     S.    RIDER. 

1884. 


V 


PROVIDENCE  PRESS  CO.,  PRINTERS. 


"  A  decline  in  the  state  of  Greek  scholarship  implies  even  more  than  the 
failure  of  esteem  for  the  most  valuable  and  influential  of  all  languages ;  it 
involves  with  it  a  gradual  but  certain  decay  of  general  culture,  the  sacrifice 
of  learning  to  science,  the  neglect  of  the  history  of  man  and  of  thought  for 
the  sake  of  facts  relating  to  the  external  world."— Isaac  Todhunter,  Conflict 
of  Studies,  p.  135. 


GREEK  AND  WHAT  NEXT? 


Gentlemen  of  the  Alumni  Association.  In  asking  one  to 
speak  before  you,  whose  daily  life  is  removed  from  academi- 
cal influence  and  collegiate  association,  and  in  assigning  to 
him  a  subject  peculiarly  fitted  for  academical  discussion  and 
collegiate  decision,  you  certainly  do  not  expect  from  him 
either  learned  disquisition  or  technical  argument.  The  claim 
of  the  classical  languages  to  a  place  in  our  schools,  has  been 
so  often  disputed  and  so  vigorously  defended,  has  for  so 
many  generations  been  the  theme  of  writers  and  speakers, 
has  gathered  around  itself  so  huge  a  literature,  that  the 
studious  critic  finds  nothing  left  to  say.  Year  by  year  we  read 
statements  and  counter  statements,  that  were  as  familiar  to 
Michael  Neander  and  Jerome  Wolf,  as  they  are  to  the  teacher 
and  learner  of  to  day.  Nay  more,  in  this  long  dispute 
between  the  defenders  of  what  is  called  the  old,  and  the 
partizans  of  what  is  styled  the  new,  in  this  continued  con- 
flict of  studies,  from  Erasmus  of  De venter  to  Herbert 
Spencer  of  London,  I  do  not  believe  that  anybody  lias  ever 
convinced  anybody  else.  For  the  difference  between  the- 
disputants  is  not  in  detail,  but  in  substance  ;  is  radical,  not 
merely  superficial.  On  the  one  side,  we  are  told,  that  th& 
object  of  boyhood's  training  is  to  open  vistas  of  varied  learn- 
ing and  so  to  strengthen  the  neophyte's  sight,  as  to  enable* 
him  to  scan  the  broad  horizon  of  mental  achievement  before 
he  chooses  his  own  special  pathway  of  labor,  to  harden  his 
intellectual  fibre,  and  to  form  judgment  and  taste,  without 
reference  to  definite  ends,  to  prolong  and  broaden  prepara- 


6 

tion  in  the  belief  that  future  work  will  reflect  and  return  the 
long  labor  of  discipline,  and  the  long  years  of  hopeful  teach- 
ing and  study.  On  the  other,  we  are  reproached  with 
wasting  the  plastic  period  of  youth  in  pursuits  which  bring 
no  reward,  in  employments  which  compared  with  the 
demands  of  active  life,  are  trivial  and  trifling,  in  studies 
which  rather  unfit  than  prepare  the  student  for  the  world  in 
which  he  must  soon  struggle  to  obtain  success,  or  it  may  be 
to  maintain  his  existence.  The  plea  for  years  of  study  to 
ensure  knowledge,  which  must  be  gained  before  life's  work 
is  begun,  or  be  given  up  forever,  is  answered  by  a  demand 
for  early  fruit,  and  for  such  speedy  and  special  training  as 
may  insure  its  production. 

The  education,  which  is  general,  involves  a  long  period 
of  labor  and  waiting  that  contributes  little  to  the  student's 
support,  and  is  therefore  beyond  the  reach  of  large  classes 
in  every  community.  It  thus  becomes  to  them  an  object  of 
envy  or  distrust  or,  perhaps,  dislike.  Having  no  sympa- 
thy with  it,  they  possibly  gain  a  repugnance  to  it,  and  the 
theorist's  dream  is  used  as  a  foil  to  bring  into  bolder  relief 
the  useful  work  of  the  practical  laborer.  Again,  the  pros- 
pect of  speedy  reward  is  the  strongest  incentive  to  work  in 
minds  that  cannot  as  yet  have  been  accustomed  to  the  inter- 
val between  seed  time  and  harvest,  and  long  waiting  in  patient 
labor  breeds  discouragement,  which  induces  belief  that  a 
new  age  demands  a  new  training ;  that  a  modern  society 
calls  for  modern  methods  ;  that  the  old  is  worn  out,  and  that 
all  things  should  be  mude  new. 

Of  the  classical  languages,  the  more  elaborate  and  the 
more  perfect  one  has  been  selected,  of  late  years,  for  special 
attack.  The  Latin  is  grudgingly  allowed  a  place  among 
useful  studies,  at  least  as  yet,  but  the  advocates  of  a 
reformed  education  demand  the  exclusion  of  the  Greek  from 
our  schools  and  colleges  so  far  as  it  is  a  part  of  the  regular 
and  required  courses,  and  the  substitution  for  it  of  some 
modern  language  or  of  some  scientific  study.  Greek  has 


been  selected  as  the  weak  point  to  attack,  and  I  believe  it  to 
be  the  most  important  in  our  whole  educational  system.  I 
come  before  you,  gentlemen,  accepting  your  invitation  to 
address  you  in  the  spirit  which  prompted  you  to  give  it,  and 
I  come  to  express  my  gratitude  that  our  collegiate  course 
circled  around  the  classical  languages,  and  to  confess  my 
own  conviction  that  had  boyhood  received  more  Greek, 
manhood's  work  would  be  better  done. 

Yet  I  congratulate  those  who  love  the  classics  that  there 
are  men  as  able,  as  acute,  as  enthusiastic  in  other  depart- 
ments to  watch  their  performance  and  to  criticize  both  their 
methods  and  their  results.  The  alertness  of  an  antagonist 
is  the  best  earnest  of  faithful  work,  his  aggressive  opposi- 
tion the  best  assurance  of  honest  labor.  I  hope  that  the 
classical  instructor  and  the  scientific  teacher  will  each  main- 
tain his  respective  cause  with  unabated  interest  and  unfailing 
zeal,  that  the  dispute  between  them  will  neither  cease  nor 
grow  less  warm,  that  neither  will  allow  the  other  to  rest  in 
routine  or  to  drown  vigor  in  the  bitumen  lake  of  a  mediaeval 
dialectic.  Certainly  the  humanist  may  look  back  over  the 
last  century  with  unalloyed  pleasure.  Decade  after  decade, 
our  schools  have  demanded  more  from  their  pupils,  and  the 
response  has  been  ready  and  easy.  More  Latin  and  more 
Greek,  more  science  pure  and  applied,  more  modern  lan- 
guages have  been  put  into  the  required  courses,  and  the 
student  has  increased  his  acquisitions  without  exhaustion. 
The  masters  of  knowledge  have  themselves  set  the  example, 
and  the  success  of  classical  scholars  has  quite  equalled  that 
of  their  scientific  rivals.  As  Lavoisier  and  Davy  reformed 
chemistry,  Friedrich  Wolf  reconstructed  Greek  learning 
and  Gustav  Hugo  rewrote  Roman  law ;  Humboldt  de- 
signed and  executed  his  encyclopaedic  manual  of  science, 
and  by  an  intellectual  grasp  of  detail  not  less  amazing, 
Niebuhr  recognized  and  Gceschen  and  Bethmann-Hollweg 
deciphered  the  palimpsest  of  Gaius.  While  Kirchhoff 
at  Heidelberg  was  blinding  himself  with  the  study  of  the 


8 

solar  spectrum,  Ritschl  at  Bonn  was  rediscovering  the  text 
of  Plautus.  Rowan-Hamilton  gave  to  mathematics  a  new 
instrument  of  research,  and  Laurent  completed  his  wonder- 
ful commentaries  on  the  civil  jurisprudence.  Our  own  gen- 
eration has,  with  bewildered  surprise,  followed  the  observa- 
tions of  Charles  Darwin,  and  read  the  inscriptions  of  August 
Breckh  and  Theodor  Mommsen.  Nor  has  less  energy  been 
shown  in  the  humbler  tasks  of  classical  learning.  Frere 
and  Rogers  have  compelled  Aristophanes  to  talk  English. 
Jowett  has  again  translated  Platon  and  has  tried  to  translate 
Thoukudides.  Prendergast  and  Dunbar  have  finished  their 
concordances  of  Aristophanes  and  of  Homeros.  Wide  as 
may  be  the  differences,  earnest  as  may  be  the  dispute 
between  the  scientist  and  the  Grecian,  the  outcome  of  their 
discussions  must  be  good  so  long  as  each  feels  the  inspira- 
tion of  his  own  study  and  the  stimulus  of  his  opponents' 
criticism  to  acquisition  and  production. 

But  we  must  not  imagine  that  the  dispute  can  be  con- 
cluded, and  the  disputants  reconciled.  The  scientific  school 
and  the  classical  cannot  coalesce.  They  differ  in  the  choice 
of  studies.  They  also  differ  in  the  modes  and  in  the  aims 
of  study.  The  one  is  special,  the  other  general.  The  one 
assumes  a  chosen  field  of  work,  and  prepares  the  student  to 
till  it.  The  other  knows  nothing  about  the  student's  ultimate 
intentions,  and  cares  nothing  for  them.  The  one  dismisses  its 
pupil  with  a  certificate  of  preparation  for  his  future  work. 
The  other  admonishes  him  that  his  broader  study  must  be 
supplemented  by  his  technical  training.  To  substitute  the 
scientific  school  for  the  classical  is  merely  to  build  the  super- 
structure at  the  expense  of  its  foundation  to  Jet  an  easier 
and  a  shorter  discipline  take  the  place  of  a  severer  and  a 
more  prolonged.  If  the  additional  time  gained  for  a  practi- 
cal branch  of  education  secures  greater  depth  of  acquire- 
ment, this  advantage  is  offset  by  the  loss  of  that  breadth 
which  is  even  more  important  to  youth.  Of  course,  in  deal- 
ing with  the  higher  education  we  must  assume  the  student's 


ability  to  give  to  it  the  necessary  time,  just  as  the  existence 
of  the  higher  schools  implies  wealth  and  leisure  and  culture 
in  the  community  which  supports  them.  The  classical 
school  could  not  exist  in  a  purely  industrial  society,  depend- 
ent for  its  daily  support  on  its  daily  labor. 

The  choice  then  urged  upon  us  is  between  a  preparatory 
education  that  is  general,  and  one  that  is  special ;  between  a 
course  of  study  which  is  built  up  on  the  Greek  as  the  most 
perfect  language  for  the  expression  of  human  thought  ever 
used  by  man,  the  language  underlying  all  modern  literature 
and  permeating  all  western  culture,  and  a  course  that  substi- 
tutes for  the 'Greek  something,  the  acquisition  of  which 
involves  less  labor  and  requires  less  time.  I  say  build  up  on 
the  Greek,  for  its  influence  upon  the  Latin  was  so  strong 
that  to  one  ignorant  of  it,  Roman  literature  is  meaningless, 
and  Roman  history,  during  the  periods  in  which  Roman 
action  and  Roman  thought  have  most  affected  our  own, 
becomes  unintelligible.  I  say  build  up  on  the  Greek,  for 
broad  culture  involves  Greek  learning  by  an  implication 
more  close  and  necessary  than  I  fear  even  some  of  our  in- 
structors are  willing  to  admit.  Without  Greek  the  very 
name  of  classical  education  becomes  a  misnomer.  One  half 
of  modern  and  medieval  life  can  be  explained  only  by  refer- 
ence to  Roman  letters,  Roman  thought,  and  Roman  law,  and 
all  these  drew  their  inspiration  and  much  of  their  matter  from 
that  long  roll  which  contains  the  records  of  Greek  genius, 
beginning  with  the  marvellous  songs  of  the  Homeric  Skalds, 
and  for  us  ending  with  the  splendid  harangues  of  Chru- 
sostomos. 

With  the  choice  thus  presented,  as  with  all  questions 
regarding  the  higher  education,  popular  demand  has  nothing 
to  do.  The  decision  must  come  from  the  comparatively 
small  body  of  educated  men,  whose  training  has  enabled 
them  to  form  and  defend  their  opinions  from  familiar  know- 
ledge. I  am  inclined  to  think  that  our  professed  collegiate 
practice  fairly  corresponds  to  their  views.  I  do  not  over- 


10 

look  the  prejudice,  if  you  please  so  to  call  it,  the  natural 
feeling  which  may  lead  them  to  regard  the  training  which 
they  have  received,  as  the  best  for  others,  nor  do  I  disregard 
the  feeling  which  prompts  those  who  have  not  enjoyed  their 
advantages  to  consult  their  experience  and  follow  their 
advice  in  order  that  a  child  may  secure  more  finished  culture 
than  his  father  could  obtain. 

Thus  far,  I  am  glad  to  say,  those  who  demand  the  excision 
of  one  or  both  of  the  classical  languages  from  our  school 
programmes,  have  failed  to  obtain  the  support  which  they 
professed  to  expect.  Forty  two  years  ago  Francis  Way  land 
wrote,1  "  The  colleges,  so  far  as  I  know,  which  have  obeyed 
the  suggestions  of  the  public,  have  failed  to  find  themselves 
sustained  by  the  public.  The  means  which  it  was  supposed 
would  increase  the  number  of  students,  in  fact  diminished  it, 
and  thus  things  gradually,  after  every  variety  of  trial,  have 
genei  ally  tended  to  their  original  constitution.  So  much 
easier  is  it  to  discover  faults  than  to  amend  them,  to  point 
out  evils  than  to  remove  them  ;  and  thus  have  we  been 
taught  that  the  public  does  not  always  know  what  it  wants, 
and  that  it  is  not  always  wise  to  take  it  at  its  word."  This 
criticism  on  the  changes  made  in  one  Massachusetts  college 
and  afterwards  to  be  tried  in  another,  was  prophetic  of  the 
fate  of  his  own  plan  introduced  here  eight  years  later. 
Some  of  you  remember  the  care  with  which  it  was  arranged, 
the  brilliant  anticipations  which  attended  its  adoption,  and  the 
completeness  of  its  practical  failure.  Not  less  suggestive  is 
the  history  of  the  school  which  Julius  Hecker  founded  in 
Berlin  in  1747.'2  He  endeavored  to  combine  in  a  single 
institution,  preparatory  courses  for  the  universities,  courses 
of  instruction  for  students,  who,  not  intending  to  pursue 
university  studies,  wished  to  be  fitted  for  military  life,  or 
civil,  artistic,  mechanical  or  agricultural,  and  also  courses 
for  others,  who,  as  artizans  or  peasants,  desired  a  merely 
elementary  education.  Three  departments  partly  coordi- 
nate and  partly  graded,  a  German,  a  Latin  and  a  Technical 


11 

furnished  the  machinery.  The  effect  at  first  was  to  develop 
inordinately  the  technical  division,  which  provided  teachers 
in  arithmetic,  geometry,  mechanics,  architecture,  drawing 
and  natural  science,  and  soon  furnished  special  teaching  in 
nearly  every  branch  of  work.  An  effort  seemed  making  to 
teach  everybody  everything.  After  twenty  years  of  trial 
the  death  of  its  founder  put  the  school  into  other  hands. 
The  new^  Superintendent  rearranged  the  departments,  and 
gave  to  them  their  characteristic  names  of  German  or  Arti- 
zan's  School,  Art  School  and  Paedagogium.  The  two  former 
continued  their  work  with  ample  provision  and  a  minuteness 
of  detail  which  approached  caricature.  Meanwhile,  term  by 
term,  the  paedagogium,  following  the  irresistible  law  of  its 
development,  assumed  more  and  more  the  peculiarities  of 
a  general  classical  school,  until  just  fifty  years  after  its  crea- 
tion it  deserved  and  received  the  name  of  the  "  Friedrich 
"VVilhelm  Gymnasium."  In  1811  it  was  formally  separated 
from  the  other  departments  of  the  former  foundation. 

In  urging  the  radical  difference  between  our  classical 
schools  and  those  demanded  by  our  so  called  reformers,  in 
insisting  upon  their  incompatibility,  and  in  thus  illustrating 
it,  I  should  anticipate  your  criticism  by  an  explanation. 
The  special  preparation  of  a  German  student  is  understood 
to  begin  with  the  university.  He  selects  his  department  of 
study  at  his  matriculation,  and  is  supposed  during  his  uni- 
versity career  to  be  preparing  himself  for  his  own  life's 
work.  Everything  before  the  university,  work  in  the  pro- 
gymnasium  and  gymnasium,  whatever  names  they  bear,  is 
general  education  leading  up  to  the  special  university  train- 
ing. With  us  this  special  preparation  begins  after  gradua- 
tion from  college.  All  before  this,  study  in  the  prepara- 
tory school  and  the  college  under  whatever  names,  is  gen- 
eral culture.  So  that  our  graduate,  when  he  receives  his 
academical  degree,  corresponds  pretty  nearly  in  develop- 
ment and  in  age  with  the  "  abiturient "  of  the  foreign  gym- 
nasium. Bearing  this  in  mind,  we  may,  I  think,  properly 
cite  the  experience  of  others  as  well  as  our  own. 


12 

What  is  to  be  the  future  of  our  American  colleges,  is  an 
interesting  and  not  wholly  profitless  subject  for  speculation. 
Some  of  them,  with  the  aid  of  age  and  wealth,  will  prob- 
ably surround  themselves  with  special  schools  for  final  train- 
ing, until  these  become  grouped  into  a  proper  university 
which  the  college  will  feed  with  its  graduates,  and  for  which 
it  will  become  a  preparatory  academy.  Others,  I  think, 
while  increasing  the  number  of  departments  and  of  their 
teachers,  will  stop  short  of  the  university  development  and 
grow  into  large  schools,  either  technical  or  classical ;  possi- 
bly, if  their  endowments  permit,  uniting  the  two  more  or 
less  closely  under  a  single  government ;  probably,  confining 
their  educational  efforts  to  one  of  these  two  different  objects  ; 
preparation  for  a  university  and  preparation  for  active  life. 
Meanwhile  the  colleges  are  bearing  the  double  burden  of 
general  and  also  of  limited  training,  perhaps  carrying  on 
neither  so  well  as  they  might  were  the  other  removed. 
While  this  state  of  things  lasts  we  cannot  quote  the  old 
practice  and  urge  the  presumptions  of  experience  in  its 
favor,  for  the  past  and  the  present  may  be  quite  transitional ; 
and  many  institutions  are  like,  many  men,  the  fact  that  they 
exist  is  no  good  reason  why  they  should  continue  to  be. 
AVe  may,  however,  refer  to  our  experience  as  showing  that 
the  higher  culture  is  more  in  honor  among  us  than  the  lower, 
that  the  general  education  is  more  in  demand  than  the  spec- 
ial, and  we  may  be  contented  that  the  influence  which  blessed 
us,  is  still  exerted  to  elevate  culture,  not  to  depress  it ;  to 
broaden  education,  not  to  narrow  it;  to  extend  discipline, 
not  to  contract  it. 

With  most  of  the  familiar  objections  to  Greek  study  I 
have  no  patience  whatever.  I  do  not  know  whether  to  be 
amused  or  vexed  at  seeing  a  brilliant  scholar  like  Robert 
Lowe  select  from  the  rich  armory  of  Hellenic  culture  the 
very  weapon  with  which  he  assaults  it ;  but  when  we  are 
seriously  asked,  in  the  alleged  interests  of  scholarship,  to 
substitute  German  for  Greek,  I  cannot  help  doubting  whether 


13 

the  request  comes  from  one  able  to  read  either  of  the  two 
languages.  Shall  Greek  be  abandoned  on  account  of  its 
inutility,  a  reason  which  the  accomplished  Legare  truthfully 
and  keenly  called  the  fundamental  and  ultimate  argument  of 
the  opponents  of  classical  education,3  then  what  is  to  take 
its  place  ?  Exact  science  ?  But  are  not  the  practical  affairs 
of  this  world  managed  by  men  who  are  as  ignorant  of  deter- 
minants and  quarternions  as  they  are  of  Greek,  who  recog- 
nize as  little  distinction  between  differentiation  and  integra- 
tion, as  they  do  between  the  Ionic  dialect  and  the  Attic?  Is 
therefore  the  calculus  to  be  given  up,  then  what  becomes 
of  physics  and  mechanics?  Is  Greek  to  be  rejected,  then 
what  becomes  of  the  humanities?  Or  natural  history?  to  be 
pursued  in  ignorance  of  its  vocabulary  and  its  terminology  ? 
Will  the  scalpel  of  the  anatomist  and  the  lens  of  the  botanist 
give  a  knowledge  of  the  development,  the  structure  and  the 
classification  of  animal  and  plant  which  will  compensate  the 
student  for  his  inability  to  follow  the  intellectual  develop- 
ment of  man,  the  structure  of  society  and  the  classification 
of  thought  ?  Or  systematic  politics  ?  Can  their  history  and 
spirit  l>e  apprehended  by  one  who  knows  nothing  of  Aristo- 
teles,  who  has  never  studied  the  independent  statelets  of 
Hellas,  or  looked  for  the  source  of  that  administrative 
wisdom  which  made  the  Byzantine  government  keep  the 
standard  and  weight  of  its  gold  coinage  unimpaired  from 
Constantine  to  the  crusades,4  who  has  never  made  the  Stras- 
burg  of  Maurer  and  the  Ghent  of  Froissart  a  commentary 
upon  the  Kerkura  of  Thoukudides?  Or  modern  literature? 
Can  its  achievements  be  understood  by  a  reader  unable  to 
comprehend  the  debt  which  Milton  owes  to  Euripides,  Gray 
to  Pindaros,  Tennyson  to  Theokritos,  and  I  beg  you  not  to 
misunderstand  me,  Swinburne  to  the  choral  lyrics  of  Aristo- 
phanes ? 

But  we  are  told  that  our  Greek  study  is  not  only  useless 
but  wasteful ;  that  it  is  so  conducted  as  to  leave  the  stu- 
dent, after  the  instruction  of  years,  unfamiliar  Avith  Grecian 


14 

thought,  and  unable  to  read  with  ease  an  ordinary  Greek 
page.  If  the  latter  is  true,  the  former  certainly  is,  for  lan- 
guage is  the  key  to  the  spirit's  casket.  The,  statement  is 
serious,  and  it  should  have  serious  consideration,  for  I  fear 
that  it  contains  a  most  uncomfortable  and  a  most  unneces- 
sary amount  of  truth.  Many  of  us,  who  after  receiving 
our  degrees,  were  sent  to  continue  our  studies  at  continental 
schools,  can  recall  the  feeling  of  surprise  and  discourage- 
ment with  which  we  took  up  the  work  imposed  on  us  by  the 
daily  lectures  that  we  attended.  Instead  of  the  few  pages 
we  were  wont  to  spell  out  with  the  aid  of  lexicon  and  notes, 
our  professors  threw  at  us  Latin  and  Greek  by  the  chapter 
and  the  book,  and  they  expected  us,  day  after  day,  to  fol- 
low them  and  to  read  their  references.  Our  companions  in 
the  lecture  room,  no  older  than  ourselves  but  trained  in 
their  native  schools,  were  able  to  do  it;  we  were  not,  until 
we  had  spent  in  laborious  drudgery,  months  which  should 
have  been  otherwise  employed.  For  my  own  part,  I  shall 
never,  during:  life,  forget  the  feeling  of  heart  sickening  in- 
dignation with  which  I  saw  others  who  had  studied  no 
longer  and  no  harder  perform  tasks  beyond  my  own  power, 
and  with  which  I  turned  back  to  work  which  ought  to  have 
been  long  before  finished.  Great  changes  and  great  im- 
provements have  doubtless  been  made  in  our  modes  of  teach- 
ing and  study  during  the  last  quarter  of  a  century,  and  I  do 
not  wish  to  be  unju-t ;  but  I  appeal  to  those  of  you  who 
twenty  five  years  ago  went  from  an  American  college  to  a 
German  university,  to  corroborate  or  refute  my  statements. 
How  many  of  you  endured  the  torture  of  a  similar  experi- 
ence ?  Now  this  was  all  wrong,  and  the  more  wrong  because 
remediable.  I  do  not  believe  that  learning  to  read  Greek  is 
more  difficult  than  learning  to  read  German,  so  far  as  the 
vocabulary  is  concerned,  and  the  subtleties  of  expression  in 
any  language  are  only  appreciable  to  one  who  has  read  much 
and  carefully.  I  do  not  know  whence  came  the  idea  that 
the  classical  languages,  unlike  all  others,  are  themselves 


15 

ends  and  not  means ;  are  the  adytum  and  net  the  vestibule 
of  learning.5  Nor  do  I  know  why  a  student,  if  properly 
taught,  should  not,  after  four  or  five  years  of  study,  be  able 
to  read  ordinary  Greek  with  ease.  Does  he  ?  For  this  ques- 
tion is  pregnant  with  the  fate  of  our  classieal  studies,  and 
with  the  destiny  of  our  liberal  schools.  If  our  boys  are 
trained  to  use  Greek  as  a  tool  and  to  use  it  readily,  I  do  not 
believe  that  it  can  ever  be  supplanted  by  anything.  If  they 
are  not,  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  advocate  of  classical  ed- 
ucation may  hereafter  find  difficulties  in  his  way  harder  to 
contend  with  than  any  which  he  has  heretofore  met ;  difficul- 
ties which  our  instructors  will  either  prevent  or  create. 

Of  the  two  classical  languages,  Greek  is  certainly  the  more 
difficult ;  and  yet,  in  the  circular  of  one  of  our  large  prepara- 
tory schools,  I  read  but  a  few  days  ago  that  Latin  was  studied 
for  six  years  and  Greek  for  three.  The  necessary  result  of 
this  is  clear.  Would  it  not  be  better  to  allot  five  years  to 
Greek  and  four  to  Latin?  Karl  von  Raumer  tells  us6  that 
in  the  school  at  Stendal  the  different  teachers  gave  weekly 
forty  five  hours  of  instruction  in  Latin  and  twenty  three  in 
Greek ;  in  the  school  at  Erfurt,  forty  two  in  Latin  and 
twenty  one  in  Greek ;  in  the  school  at  Koesfeld,  sixty  one 
in  Latin  and  twenty  eight  in  Greek;  and  that  these  figures 
embody  the  practice  in  the  other  gymnasia.  Perhaps  these 
figures  explain  the  dissatisfaction  with  the  work  of  even 
these  German  schools,  expressed  or  implied  by  several  of 
the  faculties  of  those  nine  universities  which  gave  to  the 
Prussian  Minister  of  Education,  toward  the  close  of  the  year 
1869,  their  formal  opinions  on  the  admission  of  graduates 
from  the  technical  schools  to  university  degrees.  That  the 
standard  of  classical  education  is  higher  in  Germany  than 
with  us,  only  makes  the  subordination  of  Greek  to  other 
studies  in  our  schools  more  surprising.  What  can  we  ex- 
pect, if  the  easier  language  is  to  receive  twice  the  time  al- 
lowed to  the  harder,  assuming  that  instruction  in  the  easier 
one  is  economically  given  and  is  not  excessive?  Again,  how 


16 

many  of  our  boys  are  taught  that  Greek  is  studied  to  be 
read,  not  to  serve  as  an  admission  ticket  to  college?  How 
many  of  them  are  compelled  to  use  those  modes  of  becom- 
ing familiar  with  words  and  sentences,  rhythm  and  sense,  to 
which  we  all  resort  in  studying  a  modern  language  ?  How 
many  of  them  are  required  to  read  Greek  aloud,  or  asked 
to  memorize  the  brilliant  verses  of  the  scholia  or  the  an- 
thology? Again,  are  they  not  forced  to  rely  too  much  on 
the  dreary  rules  of  syntax,  and  to  lose  the  grammatical 
knowledge  only  obtainable  by  a  wider  acquaintance  with 
the  classical  texts?  "The  aorist  was  made  for  man,  not 
man  for  the  aorist,"  and  I  incline  to  think  that  the  portions 
of  a  foreign  grammar  which  become  parts  of  ourselves,  are 
those  learned  from  reading  which  is  not  a  task,  rather  than 
from  syntactical  systems,  whose  very  aspect  is  repulsive. 
The  great  Melancthon  followed  the  instinct  of  a  profound 
scholarship  in  ending  his  school  grammar  with  the  para- 
digms of  the  verbs  in  p.  I  wish  that  our  college  teachers 
could  introduce  the  seminar.  The  labor  would  be  discour- 
aging for  a  time,  but,  if  persistent,  would  reap  a  rich  re- 
ward. It  was  in  the  seminar  that  Wolf,  at  Halle,  educated 
Boeckh  and  Bekker.  The  recent  presentation  of  the  Oidi- 
pos  at  a  neighboring  university,  was  a  pleasant  proof  of  con- 
tinued interest  in  Greek  letters  and  a  cheering  illustration 
of  profitable  work,  not  so  much  in  the  exhibition  of  old  cos- 
tume and  the  old  stage,  though  this  was  curious,  as  in  the 
close  acquaintance  with  a  great  drama,  the  familiarity  with 
its  construction,  its  details  and  its  expression,  which  the  par- 
ticipants could  perhaps  have  gained  in  no  other  way.  The 
representation  became  thus  academic  work  of  the  truest  and 
most  fruitful  kind.  Again,  do  not  our  professors,  at  times, 
deal  with  Greek  in  their  classes  as  an  element  in  compara- 
tive philology  rather  than  as  an  introduction  to  Hellenic  let- 
ters and  Hellenic  thought?  No  honor  is  too  great  for  phi- 
lological science.  Its  masters  have  opened  a  new  volume 
in  the  history  of  man,  and  have  read  to  us  pages  of  the  fresh- 


17 

est  and  most  vivid  interest  from  the  old  recoids  of  society 
and  of  thought.  They  have  illumined  their  work  with  pict- 
ures of  the  brotherhood  of  races  of  the  kinship  of  languages 
and  laws.  They  are  the  keepers  of  the  archives  of  human- 
ity,7 and  yet  the  student  ought  to  read  easily  the  text  of  at 
least  some  of  those  archives  before  he  is  led  to  philosophize 
on  their  contents.  Their  achievements  are  in  a  special  de- 
partment of  labor,  and  Greek  is  the  corner  stone  of  a  gene- 
ral education.  I  can  imagine  a  classical  teacher  with  math- 
ematical tastes  leading  his  students  in  their  Greek  studies 
to  the  writings  of  Eukleides  or  Apollonios  or  Diophantos. 
His  work  could  not  be  called  wasted,  for  these  men  pushed 
their  science  up  to  the  limits  which  were  to  confine  it  for  a 
thousand  years  ;  but  would  this  be  a  legitimate  use  of  Greek 
school  study?  Would  it  not  be  an  attempt  to  specialize 
what  ought  to  be  kept  general  ?  Again,  are  not  our  pre- 
paratory schools  sending  their  pupils  to  our  colleges  at  such 
a  stage  of  classical  acquirement  as  to  hamper  the  professor 
and  trammel  the  student  alike,  so  that  the  instruction  which 
the  one  wishes  to  impart  and  the  other  should  desire  to  re- 
ceive, can  be  neither  given  nor  assimilated?  An  experi- 
enced university  teacher  once  told  me  that  his  whole  effort 
was  directed  to  the  middle  third  of  his  class.  The  first  third 
did  its  o\vn  work,  the  last  third  was  hopeless,  while  the  in- 
tervening third  received  all  the  instruction.  And  it  is  this 
middle  third,  the  typical  average  of  the  school  and  of  life, 
which  liberal  education  does  most  to  strengthen  and  to 
broaden,  which  profits  most  from  the  teacher's  skill.  Have 
our  preparatory  teachers,  in  their  instruction  and  guidance, 
remembered  that,  under  the  old  "trivium,"  grammar  meant 
criticism  and  history  as  well  as  word  form?  Have  they 
borne  in  mind  the  often  repeated  question  of  Edward  Free- 
man, Why  do  our  boys  know  so  much  of  Miltiades  and  Leon- 
idas  and  Pausanias  and  so  little  of  Aratos  and  Kleomenes 
and  Philopoimen?  Or  have  they  thought  that  a  like  query 
might  apply  to  Latin  study  also  ?  Five  men  lived  under  the 


18 

Roman  emperors,  the  influence  of  whose  intellectual  work 
on  the  after  history  of  Europe  has  been  greater  than  that  of 
all  the  rest  of  the  Latin  writers  put  together.  Every  school 
boy  is  familiar  with  the  names  of  Cicero  and  Horatius  and 
Tacitus,  but  he  hears  little  of  the  debt  which  he  owes  to 
Gains  and  Paulus  and  Ulpianus,  to  Modestinus  and  the  great 
Papinianus. 

The  specialization  of  study,  when  allowed  to  begin,  pro- 
ceeds with  an  accelerating  and  dangerous  rapidity,  often 
helped  on  by  the  inclination  of  both  teacher  and  pupil,  the 
one  pursuing  his  hobby  and  the  other  his  tastes.  It  is  the 
business  of  a  liberal  culture  to  prevent  it,  and  each  depart- 
ment of  this  culture  must  be  carefully  guarded  against  it. 
If  it  controls  a  school,  general  education  can  no  longer  find 
there  a  proper  training  ground.  If  it  takes  possession  of  a 
department  of  study,  instruction  becomes  partial  and  one 
sided.  The  teacher  learns  at  the  student's  expense,  for  the 
teacher  has  passed  out  of  his  general  studies  into  his  own 
special  ones,  and  makes  the  discipline  in  these  more  severe 
and  more  engrossing.  Just  the  rigid  and  absorbing  study 
of  mathematics,  which  has  made  English  Cambridge  famous, 
prompted  Hamilton,  of  Edinburgh,  to  call  that  school  a 
"slaughter  house  of  intellect."8 

If  a  boy's  home  life  is  subject  to  educating  and  elevating 
influences,  his  school  work  may  be  made  of  the  most  gene- 
ral kind.  He  may  be  trusted  to  learn,  untaught,  much  that 
is  given  by  elementary  education,  and  he  will  certainly  learn 
it.  If  his  circumstances  enable  him  to  pursue  liberal  studies 
for  the  usual  time,  he  may  safely,  during  the  years  of  prepa- 
ration for  college,  confine  his  school  labor  to  Greek,  Latin 
and  mathematics,  and  if  physical  weakness  or  accidental  in- 
terruption requires  one  of  these  to  be  given  up,  I  would  re- 
gretfully but  unhesitatingly  cut  out  the  Latin,  for,  necessary 
as  it  is  in  the  study  of  science,  of  history,  of  literature  and 
of  the  Romance  tongues,  still  it  is  less  important  than  the 
Greek,  and  its  acquisition  in  later  years  requires  less  pro- 


19 

longed  and  less  irksome  toil.  But  the  condition  of  success 
in  this  classical  discipline  is  that  the  boy  should  learn  to  read 
the  ancient  languages,  both  of  them  as  a  rule,  the  Greek, 
if  but  one  can  be  studied,  and  to  read  them  until  confidence 
in  his  power  to  understand  has  taken  the  place  of  distrust. 
Of  course  this  involves  two  things  not  always  found  coinci- 
dent, that  the  pupil  should  be  an  earnest  student  and  that  his 
teacher  should  be  a  mature  one.  Of  course  too,  this  involves 
the  mastery  of  manifold  difficulties  ;  arising  from  the  subject 
matter  which  is  studied,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  represent  it  as 
easy  ;  from  the  student's  idiosyncracies,  which  are  often  very 
trying  to  the  teacher ;  from  the  student's  environment,  the 
influence  of  which  is  potent  for  good  or  evil ;  and  from  the 
teacher's  peculiarities  ;  the  old  idols  are  all  here  of  the  tribe 
and  the  cave  of  the  forum  and  the  theatre,  but  where  in  life 
can  we  escape  them?  The  labor  is  arduous,  but  the  reward 
is  great. 

And  moral  rewards,  which  are  obtained  by  faithful  and 
successful  struggle,  far  surpass  the  expectations  of  the  aspi- 
rant. They  are  governed  by  a  rule  the  direct  opposite  of 
that  which  agricultural  economists  call  the  law  of  diminish- 
ing returns.  Recorded  experience  seems  to  show  that  clas- 
sical students  who  have  profited  by  proper  teaching,  are 
better  fitted  for  the  pursuits  of  technical  science,  far  better 
for  those  of  the  so  called  learned  professions,  than  students 
specially  trained  from  the  beginning  of  their  studies  for  their 
special  departments.  I  have  already  alluded  to  the  reports 
made  in  the  year  1869,  by  nine  German  universities,  to  the 
Minister  of  Education  in  Prussia.9  The  universities  were 
Kosnigsberg,  Berlin,  Greifswald,  Breslau,  Halle,  Kiel,  Goet- 
tingen,  Marburg  and  Bonn.  Each  of  them  has  a  theological 
faculty,  a  legal,  a  medical  and  a  philosophical,  but  at  Bonn 
and  Breslau  there  are  two  theological  faculties,  one  Protest- 
ant and  one  Roman  Catholic.  The  question  submitted  to 
them  was,  whether,  and  how  far  graduates  of  the  technical 
schools  should  be  admitted  to  the  universities  as  candidates 


20 

for  university  degrees.     This  meant  whether  students  with- 
out Greek,  and  with  less  Latin  than  is  taught  in  the  classi- 
cal schools,  should  be  received  in  the  universities  on  the 
same  footing  as  students  from  the  gymnasia.     The  theologi- 
cal faculties  unanimously  answered  no.     Seven  of  the  legal 
faculties  answered  no,  those  of  Koenigsberg  and  Goettingen 
answering  yes.     Five  of  the  medical  faculties  answered  no, 
and  four,  yes.     Four  of  the  philosophical  faculties  answered 
no,  two  of  them  yes,  and  the  other  three  were  in  favor  of  re- 
ceiving the  technical  students  upon  certain  expressed  condi- 
tions.    December  7,  1870,  a  ministerial  order  directed  that 
the  testimonial  of  a  Prussian  technical  school  of  the  first  rank 
should  be  received  in  the  Prussian  universities  like  the  tes- 
timonial of  a  gymnasium,  so  far  as  Prussians  were  concerned, 
intending  to  devote  themselves  to  the  study  of  mathematics, 
natural  science  or  modern  languages,  under  the  philosophi- 
cal faculties.     March  8,  1880,  the  philosophical  faculty  of 
Berlin,  after  an  experience  of  nearly  ten  years,  unanimously 
requested  the  minister  of  education  to   reconsider  this  or- 
der.10    The  memorial  of  request  distinctly  asserts  that  the 
gymnasial  graduates  had  shown  themselves  better  fitted  than 
the  technical  for  the  departments  of  study  open  to  them  both, 
that  the  classical  students  outstripped  the  technical  in  the 
higher  mathematics,  astronomy,  chemistry,  descriptive  nat- 
ural science,  the  English  language,  the   German  language, 
philosophy,  political  economy  and  statistics.     This  action  is 
made  very  significant  by  the  fact  that  between  18C9  and  1880 
the  faculty  had  greatly  changed  and  had  much  increased  its 
membership.     The  opinions  of  1869  expressed  by  one  body 
of  men  were  ratified  in  1880  by  the  experience  of  a  practi- 
cally different  body.     Prophecy  was  fulfilled  in  history.     We 
may  learn  a  like  lesson  from  recent  experiments  in  France. 
A  government  circular  of  September,  1872,  and  a  law  of 
February,   1880,  reduced  the   bchool  time    allowed   to  the 
classics  and  prescribed  courses  of  instruction  in  which  the 
French  language  held  a  secure  preponderance.     Four  years 


21 

have  elapsed  since  this  change  was  consummated,  and  the  first 
of  French  reviews11  is  already  sounding  an  alarm.  The  stand- 
ards of  examinations  have  fallen,  not  only  in  the  provincial 
schools  but  even  in  the  Sorbonne,  and  a  French  scholar  asks 
for  the  revision  of  the  school  programmes,  not  in  the  inter- 
est of  the  classics,  but  for  the  sake  of  general  French  cul- 
ture and  of  the  French  language  itself.  Add  to  this  that 
Zupitza,  of  Berlin,  states,  in  his  faculty's  request  of  March, 
1880,  that  he  often  found  a  difficulty  in  teaching  the  Eng- 
lish grammar  to  those  of  his  students  who  were  unfamiliar 
with  the  Greek,  which  he  did  not  meet  with  in  the  case  of 
the  classical  graduates,  and  the  advocates  of  classical  study 
may,  I  think,  rest  satisfied.  Those  of  us  who  believe  in 
Greek  felt  that  we  were  right  in  claiming  for  it  acknowl- 
edgement as  an  integral  part  of  liberal  education,  but  we 
could  not  have  looked  for  such  testimonies  as  these.  Greek 
has  been  selected  as  the  point  of  attack,  but  selected  be- 
cause it  is  the  salient  bastion  of  the  whole  educational  line. 
The  student's  indebtedness  to  Greek  begins  with  the  first 
hour  of  his  reading  when  he  first  tries  to  understand  words 
rich  in  derivatives  of  every  kind,  inflected  with  every  shade 
of  meaning,  and  combined  with  prepositions  and  particles 
which  are  his  despair.  He  believes  that  the  sentences  ex- 
press definite  ideas,  but  he  cannot  easily  be  persuaded  that 
given  words  have  any  fixed  significance,  or  that  their  collo- 
cation is  determined  by  anything  save  the  writer's  will. 
When  he  has  overcome  this  skepticism  and  has  learned  that 
prepositions  in  their  manifold  combinations  and  uses,  and 
the  whole  bewildering  multitude  of  particles,  all  denote  or 
connote  ideas  ;  that  the  nouns  and  verbs  do  mean  something, 
and  do  present  by  their  changeful  forms  the  lights  and  shades 
of  thought,  he  has  practically  mastered  all  the  grammar 
which  the  Western  scholar  needs.  The  freedom  of  the 
Greek  sentence,  in  contrast  with  the  rigid  construction  of 
the  Latin,  makes  the  one  seem  a  formula,  of  which  the  other 
illustrates  a  subordinate  rule.  There  language  is  subjected 


22 

to  thought,  and  follows  its  direction  in  a  path  straight  or 
crooked.  Here  language  and  thought  move  over  the  or- 
dered rails  of  rule.  The  study  of  Latin  is  exercise  in  lin- 
guistic geometry  :  that  of  Greek  is  discipline  in  the  calcu- 
lus of  grammar.  This  flexibility  of  grammatical  construc- 
tion gives  to  the  student  his  first  great  difficulty.  After 
he  has  so  far  mastered  it  that  it  ceases  to  be  a  constant  em- 
barrassment, he  begins  to  understand  the  absolute  power 
with  which  the  Greeks  made  their  language  the  slave  of 
their  thought.  In  reading  even  the  greatest  of  the  Latin 
lyrics,  I  think  we  are  conscious  of  the  writer's  skill  and  feel 
a  pleased  surprise  at  his  success.  I  think  our  impulse  is  to 
wonder  that  confined  in  the  unyielding  framework  of  syn- 
tactical law  the  poet  can  so  lovingly  make  the  sparrow  peck 
the  finger  tips  of  Lesbia,  so  gracefully  promise  a  young 
Torquatus  to  his  parents'  prayers,  so  wildly  wail  the  lament 
of  Attis  through  the  Phrygian  groves  ;  but  when  the  Greek 
song  writer  wraps  the  myrtle  around  his  sword  blade,  as  did 
Harmodios  and  Aristogeiton,  or  when  the  choir  of  the  Ilip- 
polutos  chants  the  destined  misery  of  Phaidra  wrecked  on 
her  awful  woe,  we  are  conscious  of  neither  poet  nor  metre. 
The  closing  scene  of  the  Prometheus  bound,  is  sublime  in 
its  grand  defiance,  but  the  poet's  language  is  lost  in  the 
poet's  thought.  Attempt  to  translate  it ;  your  English  mind 
fails  to  grasp  the  relation  of  the  demi  god  to  the  Supreme, 
you  have  broken  the  connection  between  feeling  and  utter- 
ance, and  your  words  will  be  either  bombast  or  rant. 
Brilliant  as  are  the  writings  of  Tacitus,  full  of  meaning  and 
irresistible  in  their  attractiveness  of  condensed  wisdom  and 
cold  epigram,  the  style  is  btill  obtrusive,  the  author  is  stand- 
ing between  his  subject  and  his  reader.  Turn  to  Thouku- 
dides  and  the  author  has  disappeared,  the  student  is  com- 
muning directly  with  the  writer's  ideas.  There  is  no  style, 
only  page  after  page  of  sentences,  whose  grammatical  struc- 
ture is  bursting  with  the  pressure  of  the  thought  which  has 
been  crowded  into  them,  till  the  reader  doubts  whether  the 


23 

master  workman  wrestled  with  a  language  as  yet  unformed, 
or  was  lost  in  his  work  and  wrought  on  reckless  of  gram- 
mar. Among  the  Latin  prose  writers,  Caesar,  in  his  com- 
mentaries, shows  perhaps  the  most  perfect  subjection  of  lan- 
guage to  thought,  l)ii t  Caesar  was  the  most  perfect  Greek  of 
them  all. 

That  a  language  of  surprising  flexibility  and  wealth,  of 
great  power  and  grace,  typical  in  its  characteristics  of  the 
people  who  used  it,  mirrors  the  development  of  a  race  which 
was  unrivalled  in  its  skill  of  adaptation,  its  perception  of 
symmetry  and  its  love  of  liberty  ;  that  this  language  reflects 
the  spirit  of  an  ancient  culture  which  has  become  part  of  our 
own,  shows  to  us  those  masterpieces  of  intellectual  workman- 
ship which  are  recognized  models  of  literary  invention,  con- 
struction and  presentation,  is  the  medium  through  which  the 
master  minds  of  a  remote  past  have  made  us  the  heirs  of 
their  thought ;  that  this  language  differs  from  our  vernacular 
as  much  as  two  allied  languages  can  differ  from  each  other, 
and  yet  is  one  of  the  elements  which  are  combined  in  our 
modern  English  ;  is  a  sufficient  vindication  of  its  study.  Yet 
all  this  does  not  express  the  claim  which  the  Greek  has  upon 
us.  Our  chief  debt  is  not  to  the  Greek  tongue,  but  to  the 
Greek  genius,  to  its  science  and  art  and  letters ;  its  geome- 
try and  politics,  its  temples  and  statues,  its  history  and  lit- 
erature. It  dealt  Avith  every  department  of  intellectual 
work,  and  in  each  its  mission  was  to  broaden,  to  adorn,  to 
invigorate.  It  gave  to  its  ministers  a  birth  gift  of  breadth, 
beauty  and  strength,  in  virtue  of  which  they  still  do  and 
ever  will  live. 

Look,  for  example,  at  the  speech  in  which  Lukourgos  at- 
tacks Leokrates,  for  violating  the  orders  adopted  in  be- 
half of  the  public  safety,  after  the  disasters  of  Chaironeia. 
"Three  things,"  says  the  speaker,  "make  up  the  State,  the 
ruler,  the  judge,  the  citizen,  and  each  of  these  has  bound 
himself  to  the  others  by  oath,  for  men  may  be  deceived,  but 
the  gods  cannot  be.  Wherefore  the  Greeks  at  Plataiai, 


24 

when  drawn  up  against  the  force  of  Xerxes,  bound  them- 
selves by  an  oath  not  then  devised,  but  imitated  from  the 
one  which  is  habitual  among  you,  which  it  is  worth  while 
for  you  to  listen  to.  Let  the  clerk  read  it."  u  Ou  Troajffo/jiat 
Tisot  TT/£/OM>C  TO  fy  r^  £/eu#e/?/«c.12  .  .  .  ."  I  will  not  value 
life  more  than  liberty.  And  we  can  hear  echoes  ringing 
through  the  annals  of  our  own  land  from  the  words  of  the 
old  Puritan  of  Athens. 

The  great  philosopher  of  the  Academy  taught  his  pupils 
to  look  beyond  life  and  across  its  surrounding  boundary  of 
death.  As  he  closed  his  Politeia  with  the  rewards  and  punish- 
ments which  Er  saw  distributed  in  vision,  so  he  closed  his 
teaching  by  boldly  lifting  up  the  veil  of  the  infinite.  You 
recall  the  noble  words  with  which  his  followers  uttered  their 
loftiest  thought  in  the  opening  sentence  of  that  manual  so 
familiar  to  you,  which  Platon  himself  would  have  rejoiced 
at  could  he  have  lived  to  see  it :  "'AV  doyjj  fa  b  /o/-oc  xai  b 
/o?-oc  fy  TTOOC  rov  Szov  xai  Szbz  ty  b  /o^o^."  In  the  beginning 
was  reason,  and  reason  dwelt  with  God  and  God  was  reason. 
Shall  we  recognize  the  evangelist  as  the  follower  of  the  phil- 
osopher, or  shall  we  look  on  the  Platonic  dialogues  as  an  in- 
struction to  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount? 

The  orations  of  Isaios  are  one  of  the  wonders  of  litera- 
ture. They  are  professional  arguments  on  doubtful  and 
technical  questions  of  the  Athenian  law  of  inheritance,  on 
subjects  bristling  with  legal  difficulty  and  repellant  with  le- 
gal formality.  Yet  they  have  taken  their  place  in  the  polite 
letters  of  the  world.  True,  similar  successes  have  been  won 
since.  Witness  a  few  of  the  arguments  of  the  half  dozen 
greatest  advocates  who  have  used  our  own  language  ;  wit- 
ness, too,  the  Merctiriales  of  the  Chancellor  D'Aguesseau, 
and  you  may  judge  from  these  how  great  is  the  triumph  of 
the  Attic  lawyer.  Nor  is  he  alone  in  his  power  to  give  last- 
ing interest  to  a  discussion  of  themes  whose  importance 
seems  transient.  Isokrates  and  Demosthenes  have  described 
the  business  dealings  of  the  banking  house  of  Pasion,  and 


25 

their  narratives  read  like  an  article  from  last  month's  review. 
Nor  is  this  world  spirit  which  arrests  decay  and  keeps  the 
passing-  ever  fresh,  found  only  in  the  work  of  the  master 
craftsmen.  The  verses  of  Theognis  can  make  no  preten- 
sion to  greatness  in  any  way.  I  doubt  if  they  even  be- 
long to  literature  proper,  and  yet  they  are  so  full  of  that 
unexpected  commonplace  which  makes  up  life,  the  expres- 
sion is  so  plain  and  so  like  the  thought,  and  both  so  like 
ourselves,  that  we  read,  half  wondering  if  we  have  not  seen 
it  all  before,  perhaps  in  last  week's  magazine. 

Greek  poetry  and  Greek  philosophy  are  trite  subjects. 
Let  us  for  a  moment  confine  our  attention  to  the  orators,  for 
what  is  true  of  them  applies  also  to  those  who  have  in  other 
branches  of  work,  made  the  Greek  name  immortal. 

The  breadth  and  strength  of  Greek  oratory  are  more  strik- 
ing to  us  than  its  beauty,  but  are,  in  fact,  not  more  charac- 
teristic of  it.  The  broadness  and  vigor  of  its  workmanship 
vibrate  sympathetic  chords  in  our  own  minds  ;  hence  we  ap- 
preciate these  excellencies  without  trouble,  hence,  too,  we 
can  analyze  them  without  difficulty.  Let  me  cite  the  words 
of  two  writers,  both  accomplished  scholars,  both  celebrated 
authors,  both  familiar  with  Hellenic  work,  and  yet  the  men- 
tal antipodes  of  each  other.  Edward  Bulwer,  in  his  oration 
before  the  undergraduates  at  Edinburgh,^  said  of  Demos- 
thenes, "Many  speakers  have  literally  translated  passages 
from  his  orations  and  produced  electrical  effects  upon  sober 
English  Senators  by  thoughts  first  uttered  to  passionate 
Athenian  crowds.  Why  is  this?  Not  from  the  style,  the 
style  vanishes  in  translation.  It  is  because  thoughts,  the 
noblest  appeal  to  emotions,  the  most  masculine  and  popu- 
lar." Edwards  Park,  in  his  address  on  the  life  of  Leonard 
Woods,  tells  us,14  "Clear  thought  deeply  felt,  and  having 
possession  of  the  speaker  who  has  possession  of  himself,  is 
eloquence."  Put  these  statements  together  and  they  ex- 
plain much  of  the  power  of  the  Attic  speakers.  The  ex- 
tent of  their  mental  grasp  whence  came  their  utterance,  the 


26 

virile  vigor  of  their  feeling  which  controlled  their  hearers, 
the  limpid  clearness  of  their  ideas  and  language,  account  for 
much,  but  much  still  remains,  all  of  their  beauty. 

We  Teutons  have  an  idea,  which  the  uneducated  mind 
thoroughly  believes  in,  and  with  which  even  the  educated  is 
somewhat  tinctured,  that  strong  appeal  on  grave  subjects  is 
or  should  be  the  result  of  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  in- 
spiration, that  good  speaking  is  extemporaneous,  and  that 
the  orator  loses  dignity  and  power  by  dependence  upon  pre- 
vious preparation.  Jebb,  in  his  introduction  to  the  Attic 
orators,  attributes  this  to  the  Hebrew  element  of  our  educa- 
tion,15 emphasized  by  the  reformers,  and  I  suppose  due  to 
the  Old  Testament  in  our  vernaculars.  I  am  not  sure  that 
he  is  right,  for  the  idea  is  older  than  the  reformation,  and 
too  deeply  rooted  not  to  have  great  antiquity.  If  Hebrew 
in  its  origin  it  may  have  come  by  direct  tradition  through 
the  mouths  of  the  great  rabbis  of  the  .Ashkenazim  and  the 
Sephardim,  but  it  more  probably  is  a  survival  from  the  times 
when  our  forefathers  recognized  the  prophetess  and  obeyed 
the  Aurinias  and  the  Veledas16  of  old  German  story. 

The  Greek  conception  of  the  speaker's  task  was  quite  dif- 
ferent. According  to  it  the  speech  is  a  work  of  art,  and  the 
speaker  an  artist.  In  mastering  the  subject  matter,  in  ar- 
ranging the  mode  and  order  of  presentation,  in  determining 
the  style  and  expression  of  delivery,  no  drudgery  of  labor 
is  excessive,  no  detail  of  preparation  is  trivial.  This  study 
of  matter,  of  arrangement,  of  delivery  is  perhaps  what  the 
great  Athenian  meant  when  he  defined  oratory  by  a  three- 
times  repeated  "bxox  peats." 

The  beauty  of  the  Greek  orators  springs  from  their  hav- 
ing so  fully  realized  this  conception,  which  I  believe  to  be 
the  true  one.  Before  we  can  appreciate  it  we  must  put  off' 
something  of  the  Germanic  and  put  on  something  of  the 
Hellenic.  We  must  truly  feel  that  symmetry  and  simplic- 
ity are  essential  elements  of  the  speakers  success,  as  well 
as  earnestness  of  thought  and  speech.  If  we  can  do  this, 


27 

the  Greek  orators  will  find  in  us  at  least  enough  of  the  spirit 
with  which  they  were  once  heard,  to  secure  admiration  for 
their  massive  strength  and  love  for  their  honest  and  perfect 
beauty,  beauty  of  expression  in  words  which  are  the  hand- 
maidens of  thought,  beauty  of  thought  which  traverses  its 
subject  like  sunlight  in  a  path  direct  and  clear. 

And  those  who  listened  to  these  Greek  speakers  were 
trained  into  full  sympathy  with  them  by  an  education  prob- 
ably the  broadest  and  the  most  thorough  to  which  a  free 
people  ever  submitted.  We  have  heard  a  great  deal  about 
the  influences  surrounding  an  Athenian  boy,  how  he  lived 
amid  the  masterpieces  of  architectural  and  plastic  art ;  how 
the  masters  of  thought  kept  open  schools  to  instruct  him  by 
their  conversation  ;  how  the  masters  of  speech  were  con- 
stantly addressing  the  people,  of  whom  he  was  one ;  how 
the  masters  of  poetry  were  ever  illustrating  the  history  and 
faith  of  his  race  in  the  great  theatres,  where  he  sat  all  day 
listening  to  elevated  sentiment  and  polished  verse.  Rheto- 
ricians have  described  these  things  as  if  they  believed  the 
Greek  citizen  to  be  a  lounger,  who  received  his  culture  by 
simple  absorption.  But  for  forty  years  of  his  life,  from 
twenty  to  sixty,  the  Athenian  was  at  the  command  of  his 
government,  in  peace  and  war,  for  deliberative  discussion,  for 
judicial  decision,  for  religious  festival  and  for  military  service. 
At  eighteen17  the  boy  passed  from  his  father's  care  into  the 
hands  of  the  State,  and  for  two  years  received  a  compulsory 
preparation  for  every  department  of  the  citizen's  duty.  He 
was  kept  under  arms  in  the  field  and  in  garrison ;  he  was 
obliged  to  attend  the  courts  and  the  assemblies  ;  he  was 
forced  to  study  under  the  grammarians,  the  orators  and  the 
philosophers  ;  he  was  made  a  participant  in  the  State  re- 
ligion, twice  he  sang  in  the  procession  of  the  great  God- 
dess of  Eleusis  ;  a  sharer  in  the  State  festivals,  twice  in 
honor  of  the  great  dead  he  marched  to  the  mound  at  Mara- 
thon and  to  the  shore  opposite  Salamis,  and  when  he  was 
admitted  to  citizenship  there  was  nothing  in  his  public  du- 


28 

ties  which  had  not  been  made  familiar  to  him.  All  this 
breadth  and  strength  of  educational  purpose,  and  for  ends 
political  and  practical,  characterized  the  routine  life  of  a 
people  that  we  too  often  regard  as  only  artistic  and  visionary, 
as  boasting  of  a  freedom  which  it  degraded  to  license.  There 
are  certainly  passages  in  the  annals  of  free  Greece  which  I 
would  not  willingly  defend,  but  if  we  strike  out  those  which 
fall  under  the  four  hundreds,  and  the  thirties,  and  the 
TO  pav,  they  are  very  few  in  number.  I  do  not  believe 
that  history  can  show  a  State  which  more  perfectly  realized 
than  did  Athens,  the  proud  words  which  its  historian  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  its  statesman  :  "  (fdoxaAoitfjtev  '/-do  /JLET" 
2or&U/ac  xat  yiAoaoifoufj.s.\<  di^e'j  ^tt/«x:«c,"18  which  more  ideal- 
ized man's  actual  life,  which  so  kept  vigor  and  so  combined 
with  it  grace.  It  was  the  Attic  Greek  who  first  conceived 
the  perfect  man  of  our  own  later  and  Christian  civilization, 
and  called  him  the  "x«/oc  x  dyafioz,"  the  elegant  and  the 
good. 

Moreover,  the  symmetry  of  the  Greek  intellect  forbade  a 
partial  training.  As  if  to  anticipate  the  lament  of  a  subse- 
quent age,  that  modern  life  requires  so  much  of  those  who 
live  it,  the  Greeks  found  that  society  demanded  from  its 
members  all  the  vigor  of  a  well  disciplined  mind,  all  the 
endurance  of  a  well  trained  body.  They  gave  to  the  physi- 
cal and  the  metaphysical  equal  care,  and  tended  them  both 
in  the  same  spirit.  There  is  neither  materialism  nor  sensu- 
ality in  the  songs  which  Pindaros  sang  of  the  victorious 
athletes.  It  was  neither  of  these  things,  I  think,  which 
gave  rise  to  the  story  of  Hupereides  unveiling  Phrune  before 
the  judges  of  the  Areiopagos.  The  Greek  sense  for  the 
beautiful  in  form  is  beyond  our  apprehension.  We  can  not 
imagine  the  pleasure  with  which  the  Greek  eye  followed 
the  perfect  development  of  perfect  figures,  or  the  delight 
with  which  it  watched  the  sinuous  movement  of  steel  like 
muscles  that  undulated  in  their  play  beneath  the  surface  of 
a  healthy  skin.  I  frankly  wish  that  we  could.  We  should 


29 

then  make  parts  of  oar  education  strong  which  are  now 
weak.  The  Greek  training  affected  the  very  aspect  of  the 
race,  for  while  the  Greek  woman  was  white,  the  Greek  man 
was  brown,  and  meanwhile  the  vigor  of  mind  and  the  vigor 
of  body  acted  and  reacted  on  each  other.  Later  the  Stoic, 
and  still  later  the  Ascetic,  in  their  contempt  for  the  physical 
left  behind  them  a  baleful  influence  which  we  still  feel,  but 
if  these  bodies  of  ours  are  the  instruments  with  which  our 
mental  and  moral  work  is  to  be  done  on  earth,  if  they  are 
creations  in  the  image  of  the  Creator,  if  they  are  temples  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  in  us,19  there  is  no  greater  nonsense  than  to 
regard  them  with  indifference  or  to  speak  of  them  disparag- 
ingly. Mentally,  morally,  physically,  I  would  gladly  see  our 
boys  moulded  in  the  type  of  that  marble  hero  who  stands  at 
the  end  of  one  of  the  Vatican  galleries,  leaning  on  the  head 
of  the  conquered  boar,  his  figure  instinct  with  the  spirit  of 
Hellenic  thought  and  of  Hellenic  art,  muscular,  masculine, 
comely,  complete. 

But  can  the  study  of  Greek  be  changed  with  in  utility, 
even  by  the  most  practical  of  reformers  who  demands  the 
most  practical  of  results?  Generation  after  generation  boys 
have  left  our  schools  trained  by  Greek  and  its  companion 
Latin,  some  of  whom  have  displayed  in  their  after  lives  the 
breadth,  the  strength  and  the  beauty  of  mind,  will  and 
character  which  made  them  living  illustrations  of  how  the 
past  teaches  the  present,  of  how  the  present  vivifies  and 
reproduces  the  virtue  of  the  past ;  have  borne  into  life's  con- 
tests the  humanity  of  classical  learning,  have  decorated  life's 
triumphs  with  the  elegance  of  classical  grace.  It  may  be 
that  daily  duty  left  them  little  time  for  communion  with  the 
ancient  teachers  of  boyhood.  It  may  be  that  these  teachers 
grew  strange  to  the  sight  of  later  life  ;  but  the  work  of 
teaching  was  still  done.  The  loaf  is  none  the  less  leavened 
because  the  yeast  plant  is  killed  in  the  oven's  heat.  Nor  do 
I  shrink  from  examples..  If  of  the  men  in  our  land  who 
have  recently  passed  from  the  stage  of  action,  I  was  asked 


30 

to  say  whose  lives  typified  the  Greek  spirit  which  I  have 
referred  to,  whose  honors  were  the  fruitage  of  severe  classi- 
cal discipline  in  youth,  I  should  give  the  names  of  Horace 
Binney  and  Charles  Francis  Adams. 

In  all  great  mind  work  there  is  something  which  overlies 
all  mere  mind  training,  something  which  Ave  feel  but  cannot 
grasp,  which  we  can  neither  define  nor  analyze.  We  are 
conscious  that  it  is  present,  but  we  cannot  tell  why.  TTe 
yield  to  its  power,  which  we  can  neither  explain  nor  criti- 
cize. It  is  strong,  subtle,  impalpable.  Let  me  illustrate, 
for  this  something  completes  our  indebtedness  to  the  Greek. 
You  remember  how  a  score  of  years  ago  two  men  well 
known  in  public  life,  met  at  a  solemn  festival  in  the  out- 
skirts of  a  little  town  in  Pennsylvania,  one  learned,  accom- 
plished and  scholarly,  full  of  the  doctrines  of  the  schools, 
the  finished  rhetor  in  New  England's  history  •,  the  other  of 
all  this  the  opposite,  void  of  learning,  accomplishment  and 
scholarship,  yet  I  ask  you  to  weigh  the  ten  minute  speech  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  in  that  graveyard  at  Gettysburg,  against 
the  two  hour  oration  of  Edward  Everett,  and  to  tell  me  if 
there  is  not  in  pure  literature  something  which  no  education 
can  give,  if  there  is  not  even  here  something  of  more  value 
than  all  culture?  Of  the  classical  languages,  it  is  the 
crowning  glory  of  the  Greek  that  this  something  Demos- 
thenes and  Platon  had,  Cicero  and  Seneca  lacked.  If  my 
illustration  surprises  you,  open  your  Thoukudides  and  you 
will  find  that  the  fire  which  glows  through  the  words  of 
Lincoln  was  kindled  by  Perikles  to  honor  the  Athenian 
dead. 

Fellow  graduates  of  the  University,  again  and  again  we 
have  met  to  find  the  hope  of  years  once  before  us  changed 
into  the  experience  of  years  wrhich  we  have  left  behind,  to 
miss  well  known  figures,  and  to  see  vigorous  forms  pressing 
on  to  take  the  places  of  those  of  us  who  are  falling,  or  have 
fallen.  As  we  occupied  the  seats  that  our  fathers  once 
filled,  our  sons  are  now  sitting  where  we  sat  in  yonder  halls. 


31 

We  look  at  the  familiar  scenes  and  greet  each  other  with 
our  hearts  full  of  that  feeling  which  made  the  aged  Kreousa 
weep  over  the  cradle  of  her  boy.  The  problems  of  prepar- 
ing for  life  and  of  performing  life's  duty,  which  long  ago  we 
thought  in  boyhood's  way  were  weighty  and  urgent,  now 
press  upon  our  minds  with  a  tenfold  force,  for  it  is  not  of 
ourselves  that  we  think,  but  of  those,  flesh  of  our  flesh  and 
blood  of  our  blood,  who  are  soon  to  take  from  our  hands  the 
torch  of  our  culture  to  speed  with  it  through  a  new  genera- 
tion, and  to  hand  it  in  turn  to  others  yet  unborn.  This 
yearning  that  our  children  may  be  wiser  and  stronger  than 
we  is  more  than  a  wTish  that  they  may  enjoy  the  excellencies 
which  we  imagine  that  we  have,  and  be  free  from  the  defects 
which  we  know  that  we  labor  under ;  it  claims,  and  you  will 
recall  another  old  Greek  thought,  the  performance  of  a  duty 
not  to  ourselves,  not  to  our  children  only,  but  a  duty  which 
the  citizen  owes  to  his  State.  It  is  for  us,  so  far  as  we  can, 
to  take  care  that  our  successors  may  go  forth  into  life  pano- 
plied with  the  wisdom  of  the  past,  to  battle  as  paladins  for 
the  good,  the  beautiful  and  the  true.  Have  we  done  our  all 
to  make  ourselves  fathers  of  such  children  as  we  would  fain 
have  ?  Are  we  doing  our  all  to  make  our  children  such  as 
we  wish  them  to  be,  for  we  must  remember  that  we  and  they 
live  under  the  reign  of  a  law  as  inevitable  as  fate,  as  inex- 
orable as  justice,  as  eternal  as  God.  What  our  fathers  were, 
we  are  ;  what  we  are,  our  children  must  be.  The  best,  the 
most  fruitful,  the  most  effective  methods  of  school  training 
are  matters  to  us  not  for  ornamental  debate,  but  of  intense 
and  imminent  interest.  Where  can  we  find  the  influences, 
whither  shall  we  look  for  the  models,  whence  can  we  draw 
the  spirit,  of  a  culture  whose  discipline  may  give  to  healthy 
and  hopeful  minds  a  strength  which  will  not  fail  in  the 
strenuous  struggle,  a  breadth  which  will  not  attenuate  in  the 
grooves  of  routine,  a  beauty  which  will  not  fade  in  the  arid 
years  of  drudgery,  a  culture  which  may  become  an  inspira- 
tion to  youth,  a  comfort  to  wearied  manhood,  a  support  to 
reflective  age  ? 


32 

Brothers  Alumni,  have  I  done  rightly  in  pleading  with 
you  for  the  Greek?  May  I  ask  you  to  look  up  the  long 
arcades  of  time  and  see  those  fair  creations,  the  Eixpftoauv^ 
and  the  IcoypoaoKy  as  they  walk  toward  us  from  a  distant  past, 
accompanying  an  older  and  a  grander  figure,  cheering  and 
relieving  the  august  austerity  of  the  Hebraic  Torah,  and 
may  I  remind  you  that  the  joyousness  of  conscious  prepara- 
tion, the  self  restraint  of  conscious  ability,  and  the  convic- 
tion of  conscious  duty,  are  the  three  things  which  carry  man 
through  all  the  work  that  man  does  well.  Shall  we  not 
then,  mindful  neither  of  the  difficulty  of  the  labor  nor  of 
its  length,  nerve  ourselves  to  fulfill  this  duty  to  our  children 
and  the  State  before  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can 
work,  before  we,  too,  must  abandon  our  tasks,  and  join  our 
fathers  who  have  gone  before  us  where 


sv«  Tnivrsc  d-l  frdxov  awiyo'jat  xal  s 
dfioorov, 


33 


1.  Noah  Porter.    The  American  Colleges  and  the  American  public,  pp. 
14-16. 

2.  Karl  von  Raumer.    Geschichte  der  Paedagogik,  vol.  2,  pp.  167-171. 

3.  Hugh  S.  Legare's  Writings,  vol.  2,  pp.  22,  26, 

4.  George  Finlay.    Greece  under  the  Romans,  pp.  533,  534.     Byzantine 
Empire,  vol.  2,  p.  389. 

5.  Hieronymus  Wolf.    "  Sunt  enim  latina  et  graeca  lingua  non  tarn  ipsa 
eruditio,  quam  eruditionis  fores  aut  vestibulum."    Karl  von  Raumer, 
Geschichte  der  Psedagogik,  vol.  1,  p.  439. 

6.  Karl  von  Raumer.    Geschichte  der  Predagogik,  vol.  3,  p.  61. 

7.  Martin  Wohlrab  in  the  Neue  Jahrbuecher,  vol.  110,  p.  368.    "Die  Haupt- 
lehrer  am  Gymnasium  sind   die  Philologen.      Was  sind  Philologen? 
Kurz  gesagt,  die  Archivare  der  Menscheit." 

8.  Isaac  Todhunter.    Conflict  of  Studies,  p.  238. 

9.  Akademische  Gutachten  ueber  die  Zulassung  von  Realschul-Abiturient- 
en  zu  Facultsets-Studien.    Amtlicher  Abdruck.  Berlin,  1870,  Verlag  von 
Wilhelm  Hertz.    8vo.  pages  112. 

10.  Die  Frage  der  Theilung  der  philosophischen  Facultset.     Rede  zum 
Antritte  des  Rectorats  in  der  Aula  der  Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universitset 
zu  Berlin  am  15  October,  1880,  gehalten  von  Dr.  August  Wilhelm  Hof- 
mann.    Zweite  Auflage  mit  einem  Anhange:  Zwei  Gutachten  ueber  die 
Zulassung  von  Realschul-Abiturienten  zu  Facultsets-Studien,  Sr.  Excel- 
lenz  dem  Koenigl.  Minister  des  Unterrichts  erstattet  von  der  philosophi- 
schen Facultset   der   Koenigl.    Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universitset  in  den 
Jahren,  1869  und  1880.    Berlin,  Ferd.  Duemmlers  Verlagsbuchhandlung, 
1881,  8vo.  pages,  83,  see  pp.  49,  81  sq. 

11.  Albert  Duruy  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  issue  of  February  15, 
1884,  p.  845  sq.     See  pp.  888,  870  sq. 

12.  Lukourgos  against  Leokrates  79.    Cap.  19.    158  pag.  Steph. 

13.  January  18,  1854,  quoted  from  the  newspapers  of  the  day.    The  oration 
is  printed  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  vol.  20,  p.  278,  see  p.  283. 

14.  Edwards  A.  Park.    Address  on  life  &c.,  of  Leonard  Woods,  p.  28. 

15.  R.  C.  Jebb.    The  Attic  orators  from  Antiphon  to  Isaeus.  Introduction 
p.  Ixxxiii. 

16.  Tacitus  Germania,  8. 

17.  The  £<f>yflfia    See  Gaston  Boissier  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes, 
issue  of  March  15,  1884,  pp.  319,  320. 

18.  Thoukudides  II.  40,  pag.  Steph. 

19.  Epist.  to  Corinthians  I.,  6: 19. 

20.  A.  C.  Swinburne,  dedication  of  Atalanta  in  Calydon,  55,  56. 

5 


A  HYMN  TO  LIBERTY, 

WRITTEN  BY  DIONUSIOS  SOLOMOS,  OF  ZANTE,  IN  THE  MONTH  OF  MAY 

1823. 

Liberta  va  cantando  ch'e'si  cara. 
Come  sa  chi  per  lei  vita  rifluta. 

Dante  Purgatorio,  i. :  71  72. 

I  know  thee  by  the  trenchant  gleaming 

Radiant  from  thy  battle  sword, 
I  know  thee  by  that  eye  whose  beaming 

Rules  the  earth  as  victor  Lord. 

Sprung  from  hero  bones  that  scattered 

Hallow  every  Grecian  vale, 
With  thy  pristine  soul  unshattered, 

Spirit  of  Freedom  Hail  all  Hail ! 

Buried  in  them  thou  didst  languish 

Lost  in  shame  and  woe  and  fear, 
Waiting  till  to  end  thine  anguish 

'*  Come  to  me"  should  greet  thine  ear. 

But  that  hour  came  slowly,  slowly ; 

Near  thee  silence  reigned  alone ; 
Terror  shadowed  all  things  holy ; 

Round  all  slavery's  chains  were  thrown. 

Hapless  thou  I  all  gladness  banished, 

But  one  cheer  thy  fancies  keep ; 
To  recall  thy  glories  vanished, 

Tell  thy  tale  of  eld  and  weep. 

Waiting,  hoping  that  each  morrow 

Words  of  liberty  would  bear, 
While  thy  hands  in  bitter  sorrow 

Beat  the  cadence  of  despair, 

And  thy  low  voice  "  Is  my  measure 

Not  yet  filled  with  suffering,"  saith, 
Answer  from  you  heavens'  azure, 

Moanings,  clanging  fetters,  death. 


36 


Then  thine  eyes  were  raised,  dim,  blotted 
With  the  tears  of  sorrow's  store. 

On  thy  garment  folds  were  clotted 
Trickling  blood  and  Grecian  gore. 

Stained  with  crimson,  spite  of  danger, 
All  unknown  in  unknown  lands, 

Thou  didst  go  to  sue  the  stranger 
For  the  help  of  his  strong  hands. 

Alone  thou  wentest  and  with  mortal 

Anguish  earnest  back  alone, 
Never  easily  the  portal 

Opens  to  want's  plaintive  tone. 

Nowhere  rest.     One  loved  to  hear  thee, 
While  his  heart  with  pity  yearned ; 

One  with  promises  to  cheer  thee 

Scorned  thee  when  thy  back  was  turned. 

Others  laughed  to  see  the  waters 
Of  thy  woe  swell  round  thee  high, 

"  Back  and  find  thy  sons  and  daughters, 
Back  to  them,"  the  monsters  cry. 

Over  mountain,  mead  and  river 

Thy  retreating  footstep  flies, 
Where  the  funeral  shadows  quiver 

Of  illustrious  memories. 

Low  was  bowed  thy  head  and  wearing 
Furrows  scored  by  anxious  strife, 

As  the  beggar's  who  despairing 
Groans  beneath  his  load  of  life. 

Hark ;  Thy  sons  march  out  to  battle, 

With  one  spirit  praying  all, 
'Mong  the  deaths  that  round  them  rattle, 

To  live  victors  or  to  fall. 

Sprung  from  hero  bones  that  scattered 

Hallow  every  Grecian  vale, 
With  thy  pristine  soul  unshattered, 

Spirit  of  Freedom  Hail  all  Hail! 

Skies  that  with  the  fruit  and  flower 
Greenly  draped  thy  native  wild 

To  adorn  a  tyrant's  dower, 
Looked  upon  thy  zeal  and  smiled. 


37 


Smiled  and  lo  a  cry  infernal 

Through  earth's  bosom  pealed  along 
Answering  with  a  strain  supernal 

Rang  thy  Rhegas'  battle  song.1 

Thee  with  words  of  welcome  greeted 
Every  land  where  patriots  dwelt; 

And  in  shouts  each  tongue  repeated 
What  each  heart  so  warmly  felt. 

Thee  like  stars  with  music  sphery, 

Greets  Ionia's  starry  band. 
Pledge  of  joy  heart  felt  and  cheery 

Every  islet  lifts  her  hand. 

Though  each  island  wears  her  fetters 
Forged  with  skill  and  closely  now 

And  each  bears  in  branded  letters 
"  False  liberty"  upon  her  brow., 


With  a  soul  born  love  outspoken 
Greets  the  land  of  Washington, 

Glad  that  she  her  bonds  has  broken, 
That  her  freedom  she  has  won. 

While  the  Western  lion  tosses 

Haughtily  his  head  and  mane, 
From  his  tower  a  welcome  crosses 

The  blue  sea  'twixt  thee  and  Spain. 

Then  the  pard  of  Britain's  islands 

Pauses,  startled,  in  his  path, 
Against  Russia's  dim  blue  highlands 

Growls  the  utterance  of  his  wrath ; 

Shows  in  every  nervous  motion 
How  his  limbs  are  clad  with  might, 

And  o'er  .ZEgsea's  mimic  ocean 
Glares  his  eye  with  meteor  light. 

From  his  haunt  in  clouds  untrodden 
That  eagle's  eye  is  fixed  on  thee, 

Whose  claws  are  crimsoned,  pinions  sodden 
In  the  blood  of  Italy. 

Swooping  down  with  hate  and  wonder 
In  circles  each  of  narrower  span, 

Croaks  and  screams  the  bird  of  plunder 
To  destroy  thee  if  it  can. 


38 

And  thou  all  the  while  unshrinking 
Strugglest  on  forgetting  fear, 

Silent  to  those  threats  nor  thinking 
Of  the  sounds  which  meet  thine  ear. 

As  some  rocky  cliff  where  dashes 
Every  streamlet  soiled  with  clay 

Down  to  its  moveless  foot  and  crashes 
Into  flakes  of  foamy  spray, 

Which  the  clouds  are  thickening  under, 

Raining  hail  upon  its  breast 
While  the  tempests  throb  and  thunder 

Round  its  great  eternal  crest. 

Woe,  triple  woe,  to  them  whose  labor 
Thy  divine  impulse  shall  brave, 

Who  withstand  thy  lifted  sabre, 
Who  oppose  thy  falling  glave. 

From  her  ravaged  den  outbursting 

Toward  her  young,  the  wild  beast  ran 
'Thwart  the  hunter's  circle,  thirsting 

For  the  red  life-blood  of  man. 

v ~ — 

On  and  on  her  maddened  sally 

Through  the  woods  a  pathway  traced ; 
Up  the  mountain,  through  the  valley, 

Spreading  terror,  death  and  waste. 

Wraste  and  death  and  terrors  lashing, 
Thou  didst  bid  thy  progress  be ; 

From  its  sheath  the  sabre  flashing 
Nobler  courage  gives  to  thee. 

See  the  p.ain  before  thee  whitening, 

Tripolitza's  leaguered  wall ; 
Now  destruction's  bolt  of  lightning 

Thou  art  burning  to  let  fall. 

Thine  eye,  with  generous  exultation, 
Scorns  the  foeman  near  and  far, 

Through  the  battery's  diapason, 
Through  the  combat's  mad  hurrah. 

Stalking  on,  around  thee  prowling, 
As  to  fright  thee  with  their  noise, 

Listen  to  the  direful  howling 
Of  ten  thousand  men  and  boys.3 


39 

Wailing  lips  and  eyelids  clouded 

Soon  shall  mark  the  living  few 
Who  lament  the  dead,  unshrouded, 

Of  that  motley  slaughtered  crew. 

On  they  come ;  the  heavens  brighten 

With  the  red  of  battle's  glare, 
Guns  are  levelled,  muskets  lighten, 

Swords  flash  whirring  through  the  air. 

Ho !  the  struggle  so  soon  ended, 

And  our  losses  how  so  small ; 
I  see  the  foe  ranks  broken,  blended, 

Flying  to  the  castle's  wall.3 

Count  them,  numberless  the  cravens, 
Crowded  on  each  other's  track. 

Fated  carrion  food  for  ravens, 
With  your  wounds  upon  the  back. 

In  your  fortressed  shelter  tarry 

For  inevitable  doom, 
Not  enough?  then  let  night  carry 

Forth  your  answer  through  the  gloom.4 

They  answer,  and  begins  another 

Battle  din  which  o'er  the  plain, 
Mount  to  mount  its  distant  brother 

Wildly  echoing  rolls  again. 

I  hear  the  musket's  rolling  clatter, 
I  hear  the  clash  of  sword  and  sheath, 

The  axe  and  club,  the  thud  and  spatter, 
I  hear  the  grinding  gnash  of  teeth. 

Night  of  horrors,  none  can  number 

Woes  which  clog  the  struggling  breath, 

Night  of  fear  which  knew  no  slumber 
But  the  nightmare  sleep  of  death. 

The  scene,  the  place,  the  hour,  all  saddened, 
Shout  and  cheer  and  mob  like  crowd, 

War's  resolve,  soul  steeling,  maddened 
Battle's  surgy,  smoky  cloud. 

Streams  of  lightning,  groans  of  thunder, 
Bursting  through  the  midnight  fogs, 

Show  the  gates  of  Hell  asunder 
Waiting  for  the  Othman  dogs, 


40 

Opened  wide,  and  thence  emerging 
Throngs  of  naked  figures  pressed, 

Shadowy  sire  and  son  and  virgin, 
Shadowy  infants  at  the  breast. 

Black  the  funeral  masses  hover 
And  the  swarming  spirits  tread, 

Black  as  the  pall's  enfolding  cover 
On  the  last,  the  narrow  bed. 

And  they  all  from  every  quarter, 
All  came  rising  from  the  tomb, 

Who  in  Moslem  rage  of  slaughter 
Met  the  hero  martyr's  doom. 

As  the  fallen  sheaves  when  reapers 
Cut  the  harvest  fields  of  grain, 

These  awakened  ghostly  sleepers 
Seemed  to  cover  all  that  plain. 

Not  a  starry  beam  descended 
As  the  spirits  upward  sped, 

And  they  toward  the  castle  wended 
With  the  stillness  of  the  dead. 

So  beneath  the  moon's  pale  crescent, 
In  the  forest's  leafy  night; 

When  the  vale  lies  phosphorescent 
In  a  stream  of  vaporous  light; 

When  the  low  toned  zephyrs  rustle 
Through  the  tendril  bordered  way, 

While  above  the  branches  justle, 
Sweeping  shadows  fitful  sway. 

Eagerly  they  scan  the  places 

Where  the  blood  pools  stiffened  lie, 

And  through  blood  in  weird  embraces 
Dance  with  hoarse  sepulchral  cry. 

And  each  dance  impassioned  presses 
Closely  to  the  Grecian  band ; 

Each  a  warrior's  breast  caresses 
With  his  death  chilled  icy  hand. 

Through  the  vital  members  thrilling 
Falls  the  touch  of  that  caress, 

And  destroys  all  grief,  instilling 
Kage  and  hatred  merciless, 


41 

Then  the  battle  choir  engages 

In  a  yet  more  awful  glee, 
As  the  tempest's  fury  rages 

O'er  unbroken  wastes  of  sea. 

Blows  are  hailing  hither,  thither, 
And  each  blow  a  death  sent  call ; 

All  are  striking  reckless,  whither, 
But  no  second  stroke  need  fall. 

Every  limb  is  reeking,  flowing, 

'Tis  as  if  the  soul  would  fly, 
And  from  hatred's  fiery  glowing 

Strives  its  winged  strength  to  ply. 

But  the  heart  beat  pulses  coldly 
In  the  bosom's  sluggish  calm, 

While  more  fiercely  still  and  boldly 
Falls  the  sabre  swinging  arm. 

Not  a  thought  the  spirit  enters, 
Nor  of  earth,  nor  sea,  nor  air, 

All  in  all  for  each  one  centres 
In  the  crowded  combat  there. 

Such  the  whirl  of  mad  endeavor, 
You  might  well  be  sure,  I  ween, 

None  from  those  two  bands  would  ever 
Leave  alive  that  battle  scene. 

See  them  hopeless,  hero  hearted, 
Harvest  in  death's  crimson  crop; 

How  from  member  member  parted, 
Heads,  hands,  feet  before  them  drop. 

Cartridge  boxes,  steel  in  shivers, 
Brain  clots  reeking  from  the  knife, 

And  the  battered  trunk  that  quivers 
With  the  thrill  of  parting  life. 

Not  a  fleeting  thought  is  given 
To  the  slaughtered  in  the  fray ; 

On,  still  on.  Have  ye  not  striven 
Long  enough?  Cease,  cease  to  slay. 

Recreant  to  his  post  or  willing, 

Though  death  struck  to  yield,  not  one; 
Tireless  seems  the  task  of  killing, 

And  the  conflict  but  begun. 
6 


42 

But  the  dogs  now  few  and  daunted, 

Allah  shout,  with  Allah  die; 
Fire !  Fire  !  rises,  chaunted 

As  the  Christians'  battle  cry. 

Fire,  and  the  while  they  shouted, 
Lion  like  they  fought  and  bled, 

Till  the  infidels  were  routed, 
Howling  Allah,  as  they  fled. 

Everywhere  an  anguished  moaning, 
Curses  mixed  with  fear  and  prayer, 

There  was  wailing,  there  was  groaning, 
And  death's  ruckle  everywhere. 

Once  so  many  !  the  ball's  whistle 
Sings  no  longer  past  their  ears, 

Graveless  all  in  grass  and  thistle, 
While  four  times  the  dawn  appears. 

And  the  blood  each  hillock  drenches, 
Stream  like  rolls  each  valley  through, 

And  the  guiltless  herbage  quenches 
All  its  thirst  with  blood,  not  devv. 

Breeze  of  morning,  dewy,  balmy, 
On  the  crescent  breathe  no  more, 

Leave  the  heathen  star5  and  calmly 
On  the  cross  thy  blessings  pour. 

Sprung  from  hero  bones  that  scattered 

Hallow  every  Grecian  vale, 
With  thy  pristine  soul  unshattered, 

Spirit  of  freedom.     Hail,  all  hail! 

Corinth's  plain,  behold  it  glisten, 
But  the  sun  shines  not  alone, 

Where  the  vine  and  the  plane  tree  listen 
To  the  fountain's  purling  moan. 

And  the  air  no  longer  treasures 
The  low  echoes  soft  and  sweet, 

Of  the  flute's  responsive  measures, 
Of  the  lambkin's  gentle  bleat. 

As  the  breaking  wave  of  ocean 
Horsemen  surge  by  thousands  on ; 

But  the  Pallekar's  devotion 
Tarries  not  its  foe  to  con. 


43 

Rise,  three  hundred,  rise  returning: 
To  the  spots  which  once  ye  knew, 

Look  upon  your  children  burning: 
To  behold  them  so  like  you. 

With  their  courage  flower  like  faded, 

All  the  foemen  blindly  fly, 
In  the  walls  of  close  blockaded 

Aero  Corinth,  all  to  die. 

Plague  and  famine,  the  destroyers, 
The  death  angel's  trusted  ones, 

Stalk  among  the  languished  warriors, 
Arm  in  arm,  two  skeletons. 

And  upon  the  green  sward  thicken 
All  around,  the  wretched  dead, 

Remnants  who  were  left  unstricken 
As  they  battled  as  they  fled. 

Freedom,  thou  divine  and  deathless, 
Hast  all  power  to  work  thy  will; 

On  the  plain  I  watch  thee  breathless, 
Walking  stained  with  blood,  and  still. 

And  where  yonder  shadow  lingers,6 

There  I  see  in  embrace  coy, 
Maidens  with  their  lily  fingers 

Interlaced  in  choral  joy, 

Dancing,  while  love's  passion  gushes 
From  the  eye  lids  parted  fold, 

And  the  toying  zephyr  flushes 
With  their  ringlet  waves  of  gold. 

And  my  soul  with  joy  is  swelling, 
That  each  virgin  breast  shall  be 

To  its  babe's  soft  lips  a  quelling 
Fount  of  manhood  bold  and  free. 

On  the  grass,  among  the  flowers, 
I  dare  not  lift  the  reveller's  cup, 

Songs  of  freedom  in  those  hours 
I,  like  Pindar,  offer  up. 

Sprung  from  hero  bones  that  scattered 

Hallow  every  Grecian  vale, 
With  thy  pristine  soul  unshattered, 

Spirit  of  Freedom,  Hail  all  Hail! 


Thy  foot  beneath  wax  clouds  lowering 

Mesolongi's  rampart  trod, 
Christmas  morn,  when  forest  flowering,7 

Hailed  the  new  born  child  of  God. 

Then  religion  with  her  torches, 

And  her  cross  led  on  thy  way, 
Pointing  upward  to  the  porches 

Of  eternal,  heavenly  day. 

"  Here  beside  this  battle  dinted 

Mound,"  she  cried,  "  Stand,  Freedom,  fast," 
On  thy  lips  a  kiss  imprinted, 

And  within  the  Church  door  passed.8 

Stands  beside  the  Holy  Table, 
While  a  thickened  cloud  and  dim; 

Round  and  round  in  hue  of  sable 
Rises  from  the  censer's  brim. 

Listens  to  the  chanted  psalter, 

Hyinns  of  praise  herself  had  taught, 

Sees  her  saints  beside  the  altar 
With  its  outpoured  radiance  fraught. 

These  who  are  they  pressing  nearer 
With  the  noise  of  tramping  heel? 

Thou  art  listening.     Hark,  now  clearer 
Sounds  the  ringing  din  of  steel. 

And  a  light,  a  dazzling  whiteness, 

Like  the  sun's  at  noon  of  day, 
Robes  thee  with  its  beamy  brightness, 

Shining  with  no  earthly  ray. 

Fiery  gleams,  a  flashing  cluster, 

Hang  from  lip,  eye,  forehead  bright, 

Hand  and  foot  are  clothed  in  lustre, 
And  around  thee  all  is  light. 

Poised  on  high  thy  sabre  standeth, 
And  thy  step  thrice  forward  tends, 

As  a  tower  thy  form  expancleth, 
Another  step,  the  blow  descends. 

Thou  defiant  in  behavior, 
And  thy  voice  instinct  with  scorn, 

Criest,  "  Infidels,  our  Saviour 
And  the  world's  this  day  was  born." 


45 


He  hath  spoken,  "Nations  tremble, 
"  I  am  Alpha,  Omega  I,9 
"  Can  ye  before  me  dissemble? 
"  Will  ye  from  my  anger  fly? 

"On  ye  quenchless  flame  I  shower, 

"  And  all  fire  known  to  you, 
"  Of  earthly,  or  of  hellish  power, 

"  Is  beside  it  morning's  clew. 

"  A  consuming  bolt  it  shooteth 
"  Hills  too  high  for  eye  to  scan, 

"  Plain  and  mountain  it  uprooteth, 
"  Felling  beast  and  tree  and  man. 

"  All  in  fiery  doom  en  wreathing, 
"  Till  each  thing  of  life  is  slain, 

"  And  the  wind  alone  is  breathing, 
"  Through  the  ashes  that  remain." 

Asketh  any?     The  hand  maiden 
Of  His  direful  wrath  thoii  art, 

Who  can  meet  thee,  or  who  laden 
With  thy  conquered  spoils  depart? 

Thy  strong  hand  earth  feels  and  blesses 

A  deliverance  in  her  need, 
And  a  vengeful  death  that  presses 

On  the  Christ  despising  seek. 

And  the  waters  feel  it  pouring 

Foam  flecked 'on,  and  through  the  air, 

Peals  the  deep  voice  of  their  roaring, 
Like  a  wild  beast's  in  his  lair. 

Fate  accursed  fly  and  welter 

In  the  Acheloos  bed,10 
Struggle  valiantly  for  shelter 

From  the  onslaught  fierce  and  red. 

Hasten,  for  the  wave  all  blinding 
Swells  as  with  a  tempest  sound, 

There  ye  lie,  a  burial  finding 
Before  ye  a  death  have  found. 

Curses,  howls  and  groans  redouble 
From  the  throat  of  every  foe, 

And  the  gurgling  eddies  bubble 
With  the  oaths  of  rage  and  woe. 


46 


And  iu  troops  the  slipping  horses 
Stumble,  plunge  and  frightened  rush, 

Neighing  through  the  watery  courses, 
And  the  falling  bodies  crush. 

Here  an  outstretched  hand  is  pleading 
For  the  succor  none  can  give, 

Here  one  knaws  his  flesh,  unheeding 
All  save  only  not  to  live. 

While  the  heads  are  surged  and  drifted, 
With  despair  all  blank,  their  eyes 

Opened  staringly,  uplifted 
For  the  last  time  toward  the  skies. 

All  is  hushed :  its  'whelming  torrent, 

Acheloos  pours  again. 
The  neighs,  the  noise  of  weapons  horrent, 

Hushed  the  groans  of  dying  men.1 

Oh,  to  hear  deep  ocean  follow, 

With  the  roaring  of  its  flood ; 
See  the  stifling  breaker  swallow 

All  that  sprang  from  Othman's  blood  ! 

Naked  corpses,  without  pity, 
Beaten  on  the  rocks  and  sands, 

Heaped  along  the  seven  hilled  city, 
Where  the  Holy  Wisdom  stands.11 

Onward  by  God's  curses  driven, 

And  to  see,  oh,  highest  boon, 
See  those  mangled  bodies  given 

To  the  "  Brother  of  the  moon  !"12 

Let  each  rock  that  lieth  yonder 
Be  a  tomb.     There  let  the  twain 

Freedom  and  Religion  wander 

With  slow  step,  and  count  the  slain. 

Now  a  bloated  corpse,  unbidden, 
Riseth,  stretched  upon  its  face, 

While  another  sinkeih  hidden 
In  the  wave,  and  leaves  no  trace. 

And  with  wilder  rage,  the  river 

Surges  onward  iu  the  gloam; 
And  the  swollen  waters  shiver, 

Tossed  in  tumult  and  in  foam. 


47 

Could  I  sing  such  praise  ascription 
As  triumphant  Moses  gave 

When  the  God  accursed  Egyptian 
Fell  beneath  the  wall  of  wave ; 

High  above  the  raging  breaker 

The  thanksgiving  psalm  be  poured, 

And  before  their  God  and  Maker 
All  the  host  with  him  adored. 

Then  an  echoing  strain  resounded 
From  prophetic  Miriam's  tongue, 

In  the  timbrel  pulses  bounded 
Notes  by  Aaron's  sister  sung.13 


All  the  virgin  choirs  were  dancing 
With  wreathed  arms  and  tuneful  feet, 

Crowned  wifh  song  and  garlands,  glancing 
As  they  t^o  the  timbrel  beat. 

I  know  thee  by  the  trenchant  gleaming 
Radiant  from  thy  battle  sword, 

I  know  thee  by  that  eye  whose  beaming 
Rules  the  earth  as  victor  Lord. 

Yes  the  earth  knows  well  thy  valor, 
Thou  wast  never  conquered  there. 

Ocean  cannot  cause  thee  pallor, 
For  its  waves  thy  trophies  bear. 

With  their  elemental  girtle 

Billows  flowing  to  the  land, 
Clasp  it  as  a  zone  of  myrtle, 

And  thy  shining  image  stand. 

In  the  moaning  storm  they  shudder, 

Hold  the  palsied  ear  in  check, 
And  the  seaman  turns  his  rudder 

Shoreward  from  impending  wreck. 

Then  a  radiance  clear  and  queenly 

Haloes  all  the  clouds  anew, 
And  the  breaking  sun  serenely 

Gilds  the  softest  sky  of  blue. 

Yes,  the  land  knows  well  thy  valor, 
Never  wast  thou  conquered  there, 

Ocean  cannot  cause  thee  pallor, 
For  its  waves  thy  trophies  bear. 


48 

On  its  azure  fields  are  bristling 
Like  a  wood  the  crowded  masts, 

With  the  spiry  cordage  whistling, 
The  sails  bellying  in  the  blasts. 

Thou  thy  gathered  few,  thy  truest, 
To  the  battle  line  dost  call ; 

Victor  still  that  fleet  pursuest. 
Sinking,  capturing,  burning  all. 

I  see  thee,  as  thine  eye,  unsated, 
Against  two  hugh  hulks  is  bent, 

From  thy  hand  a  lightning  freighted 
Bolt  of  fiery  death  is  sent.14 

Kindles,  streams  in  flame  and  deadens, 
And  a  thunder  clap  peals  high, 

And  the  wave  around  thee  reddens 
As  a  vat  of  bloody  dye. 

Of  those  crews  in  order  serried, 
No  corpse  even  tells  the  tale. 

Hail,  oh  martyred  and  unburied, 
Spirit  of  the  Patriarch,  Hail ! 

Friend  and  foe  in  secret  union, 
On  the  morn  of  Easter  met, 

Their  lips  trembling  in  communion, 
With  the  mutual  kiss  were  wet. 

The  bays  strewn  with  love  endearing,15 
His  foot  presses  now  no  more, 

And  his  hand  ye  kissed  revering 
Gives  no  blessing  as  of  yore. 

Wail,  wail,  with  the  woe  that  hallows ! 

For  the  church's  head  is  gone, 
Mourn  ye  all,  upon  the  gallows 

Hangs  he  like  a  murderer  Mourn! 

With  his  white  lips  shrunk  and  wasted, 
And  mouth  gaping,  that  so  late 

Christ's  own  blood  and  body  tasted, 
For  those  words  ye  almost  wait. 

That  he  spake  before  the  halter's 
Martyr  glory  crowned  his  brow, 

Cursed  be  the  wretch  who  falters, 
Who  can  fight  and  fights  not  now." 


49 

Them  I  hear,  unresting,  wondrous 
On  the  land  and  on  the  deep, 

Tis  they  fulmine  and  the  thundrous, 
The  eternal  lightings  leap. 

Throbs  my  heart  with  fevered  spasm, 
But  what  see  I?     Lo  in  peace, 

She  the  godlike,  grave  phantasm 
Lifts  her  hands  and  bids  rne  cease. 

Three  times  her  eye  westward  ranging, 
Europe's  utmost  border  wins, 

Then  her  downward  look  unchanging, 
Fixed  on  Greece  she  thus  begins  : 

Pallekars,  a  note  of  gladness 
Kings  the  war  trump  to  your  ears, 

'Mong  you  in  the  battle's  madness 
No  knee  trembles,  no  heart  fears. 

Every  foe  before  you  quailing, 
Turns  and  flies.     But  even  now, 

One  remains  unconquered,  paling 
The  bay  chaplet  around  each 


One  —  though  like  mad  wolves,  the  dreary 

Crimson  field  of  strife  ye  fill 
Till  with  triumph  ye  grow  weary, 

One  remains  your  tyrant  still. 

Disunion,  and  her  wily  offers 

Of  a  sceptre's  regal  shine, 
That  to  each  she  smiling  proffers, 

Saying,  "  Take  it;  it  is  thine." 

And  that  sceptre  in  her  keeping 
Seems  in  sooth  a  winsome  thing, 

Touch  it  not  woe,  sorrow,  weeping, 
Are  the  guerdon  it  will  bring. 

Never  by  the  tongues  of  slander 

Let  it,  Pallekars,  be  said, 
That  your  hands  to  hatred  pander 

Raised  against  a  brother's  head. 

Let  the  thought  unspoken  perish, 
By  the  stranger's  wish  begot, 

If  a  mutual  hate  they  cherish, 
Liberty  befits  them  not. 


50 

Leave  such  brooding;  equal  splendors 

Of  heroic  worth  embrace, 
All  the  slain  who  fell  defenders 

Of  your  fathers'  faith  and  race. 

By  the  blood  ye  gave  unsparing, 
For  your  faith  your  fatherland, 

I  adjure  ye,  all  forswearing 
But  your  love,  as  brothers  stand. 

Think  of  how  your  faith  was  plighted, 
Of  how  much  remains  to  do, 

Ever  if  ye  stand  united, 
Ever  victory  follows  you. 

Heroes  in  whom  fame  rejoices 
Now  your  standard  cross  uprear, 

Summon  with  accordant  voices, 
Look  ye  kings  and  princes  here, 

On  this  symbol  of  your  pleading, 
Whither  all  your  prayer  is  sent; 

In  its  cause  behold  us  bleeding, 
With  the  bitter  conflict  spent. 

Ceaselessly  that  cross  insulting, 
The  dogs  trample  it  in  pride, 

And  its  sons  they  kill  exulting 
And  its  holy  faith  deride. 

Shed  for  it,  a  red  baptism, 
Christian  blood  and  guiltless  lies, 

That  from  out  night's  dark  abysm 
Unto  you  for  vengence  cries. 

Still  it  cries.     It  ceases  never 
While  the  ages  onward  plod, 

Hear  ye  it  now?    Have  heard  it  ever 
Earthly  images  of  God? 

Hear  ye  not?     And  all  earth  pealing 
The  blood  cry  of  Abel  slain, 

'Tis  no  breath  of  zephyr  stealing 
Through  a  maiden's  tressy  train. 

Is  your  will  forsooth  to  set  us 

As  a  stake  on  policy  ! 
Mincl  ye  that,  or  will  ye  let  us 

Make  ourselves  and  children  free? 


51 

If  this  counsel  ye  have  taken, 
See  before  you  stands  the  cross, 

Strike,  ye  monarchs,  waken,  waken, 
Strike  and  rescue  us  from  loss. 


52 


Dionusios  Solomos  was  born  in  Zante,  April  8-10,  1798,  and  died  in  Corfu, 
November  9-21,  1857.  His  collected  poems  were  published  soon  after  his 
death.  u  Jeovuffioi)  2'o%a)fJLOU  ra  l  Eupiaxajjteva."  l  vol.  8vo.,  Corfu, 
1859,  Terzakes. 

The  events  referred  to  in  the  foregoing  poem  are  described  by  George  Fin- 
lay  in  his  Greek  Revolution,  vols.  6  and  7  of  his  history  of  Greece  in  Tozer's 
edition  ;  Thomas  Gordon  in  his  Greek  Revolutions  and  Campaigns,  and  G.  G. 
Gervinus  in  his  Geschichte  des  19ten  Jahrhunderts,  vol.  5.  As  the  last  has 
neither  index  or  table  of  contents,  I  add  the  references.  Tripolitza,  p.  252. 
Corinth,  p.  371.  Mesolongi,  p.  364  sq.  Kanares'  attack  on  the  Turkish  fleet 
at  Tenedos,  p.  348.  The  arrest  and  execution  of  the  patriarch  Gregorios,  p. 
215. 

1.    Rhegas'  song  is  the 


'  H  -OLTlZ  <T«C  TTfWZXah?"  &C 


2.  All  over  fourteen  years  of  age  were  in  arms. 

3.  The  Castle  is  a  poetical  license  of  Solomos. 

4.  Current  report  put  the  assault  at  3  o'clock  A.  M.   It  really  took  place  after 

day  break. 

5.  The  star  in  the  crescent  on  the  Turkish  flag. 

6.  Byron's  Don  Juan  Canto  III,  86  stanza,  15  verse  of  ode. 

7.  Isaiah  &5  :  1,  in  the  text  of  the  Seventy. 

8.  Current  report  kept  the  churches  open.    They  were  in  fact  closed  to  con- 

fine attention  to  the  walls  of  the  place. 

9.  Revelations  21  :  <;. 

10.  The  battle  of  Christmas  and  the  passage  of  the  river  are  described  by 

the  historians,    L  e.  the  Greek  Christmas.    Our  January  6. 

11.  '  H  (Lfifi  —Otfiv.  nicknamed  the  Church  of  St.  Sophia. 

12.  One  of  the  Sultan's  titles. 

13.  Exodos,  Cap.  15. 

14.  October  29.    i.  e.    November  10,  1822,  Kanares  blew  up  the  Turkish  Vice 

Admiral  with  sixteen  hundred  men. 

15.  The  Greek  Christians  scatter  bay  branches  in  their  churches  at  Easter. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


JAN  18  1945 


JAN  19  1S45 

J(/Af  jy    „ 

*'     Q 

I8Apr'49SL 

7  o  Ffi!*^-"  "; 

15Apr54VlI 

-,; 

4  '  A;  £ 

rttC'D  LD 

nrr     ofc^^i,,onBfif 

Uto      ^  OH  cJPflK 

LD  21-100m,-12,'43  (8796s) 

04539 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


